


Once Upon A December

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: Once Upon A December (Anastasia AU) [1]
Category: Animaniacs
Genre: All the Warners need a hug, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Amnesia, Dreams and Nightmares, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Light Angst, The Author Regrets Nothing, They'll get hugs, This is what happens when I watch Wakko's Wish and Anastasia on the same day, We love a found family trope, Yakko Warner Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: “On the wind, ‘cross the sea, hear this song and remember…”Scratchy felt dangerously close to crying himself as the royal children joined in; “Soon you’ll be home with me. Once upon a December.”*Five years ago, the kingdom of Warnerstock fell to King Salazar. King William and Queen Angelina were killed in the chaos; the youngest Warners were whisked away to safety.And the crown prince, Yakko Warner, vanished without a trace.Now, The Brain has come up with his best scheme yet: for he and Pinky to train an actor to be Yakko, and collect the reward money. Armed with the prince's music box, the plan should go off without a hitch. But fate delivers them a toon that is too much like the missing prince for comfort.And when the rumours of Yakko's survival reach Salazar's ears, his plans to destroy the Warner siblings for good are pushed forward.It seems reaching Burbank will not be as straightforward as they'd thought.
Relationships: Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner, Dr. Otto Scratchansniff & Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner, Pinky & Yakko Warner, The Brain & Yakko Warner
Series: Once Upon A December (Anastasia AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095389
Comments: 397
Kudos: 465





	1. Prologue: The Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Anastasia and Wakko's Wish on the same day, and this is the result.  
> Yakko's my favourite, so of course that means I'm gonna make him suffer 🤷 Only a little. Happy endings only around here.
> 
> This is my first Animaniacs fanfiction and you can thank the reboot for injecting serotonin straight into my veins.

_“Just cheer up and never ever give up hope!”_ \- Wakko’s Wish

  
  
  


It wasn’t very long ago, when the people of Warnerstock lived in a world of elegant palaces and grand parties. Only five years ago. It was quite demoralising, Scratchansniff thought, to realise just how quickly things could change for the worse.

He remembered the last ball the Warners ever threw; a magnificent ball to celebrate the 300th anniversary of their family’s rule. Even with trouble brewing, they’d put smiles on their faces, for their children and their people. A ball like any other; beautiful, extravagant...The stuff of fairy tales.

How quickly it all went wrong…

  
  
  
  
  


_Five years earlier…_

  
  


It was a lovely night, Duke Otto von Scratchansniff thought; cold, but with a clear sky and full moon, and when he arrived at the party he was relieved to see King William looking in better health. The king, smiling as always, sat on the throne, watching Queen Angelina and the children dance together; their hands were joined as they skipped about in a circle. William still coughed, still seemed short of breath- but the fact that he was out of bed was a miracle in itself. It would be a long recovery, but the Scratchansniff was just grateful for his friend’s health at all.

The party was in full swing when Scratchansniff (affectionately known as Scratchy) arrived. The marble floor was polished to perfectly reflect the dancers; every chandelier and candle was lit. Banquet tables lined the walls, filled to bursting point- and he had no doubt that Prince Wakko would soon eat the majority, if left unattended. Everyone was dressed in their best, dancing without a care in the world, or so it seemed. Above the thrones was a large blue and gold banner, embroidered with the royal family’s symbol and a large _300._

300 years of peace. 300 years of successful leadership. 300 years of prosperity.

It should have been a wonderful, carefree night, but there was the nagging knowledge that the king’s slow recovery had done nothing to deter King Salazar of Ticktokia from closing in on their borders. His hand went to the presents for the royal children, hidden in his cloak. Presents that Queen Angelina had commissioned; a request from one of his oldest and dearest friends, a promise he had gladly made- to get the little princes and princess to safety.

They were due to leave in a fortnight. The little Warners had always asked Scratchansniff for stories of Burbank; as soon as they could talk, as soon as they understood where he went, they badgered him with questions. They had always expressed an avid interest in visiting (even hiding in his luggage, or his carriage, trying to bribe the guards to let them sneak out and trying to disguise themselves), and now that wish of theirs would come true. _A holiday,_ Scratchy planned to explain. An early Christmas present of sorts.

The children would be safe, away from Salazar’s clutches. They would return when it was safe to do so.

If it ever was.

But for now, it was best to put such melancholy thoughts aside. He pasted a smile onto his face and took his seat next to William. The king smiled, but before he could say anything three delighted voices cried out, _“SCRATCHY!”_ Three little black and white blurs barrelled into him, with speed that only toons could manage, and he found himself with a lap full of the Warner siblings, all three beaming at him, big black eyes shining. 

Little Princess Dot, five years old, the apple of her parents’s eyes and cute as a button- until someone made the mistake of calling her Dottie. Then she was a holy terror that not even her brothers or parents could calm. But for now, she was all smiles, giving Scratchy a big kiss on the cheek, dressed in a new pink gown patterned with flowers and ribbons, a shining tiara on her head. 

Then there was Prince Wakko, six years old; the quiet one of the trio, but no less mischievous. He delighted in visual gags and had the most amazing (and terrifying) appetite that Scratchy had ever come across. As usual, he’d foregone his crown and wore his favourite red hat; his tongue poked out his mouth and when Scratchy met his gaze, his tail began to wag. He didn’t say anything, but his little paws clutched Scratchy’s sleeve tightly.

Quite the opposite of Wakko, was Yakko; the crown prince and heir to the throne. A lanky nine year old, he babbled a mile a minute, giving Scratchy little shakes to emphasise his point: “Where were you, why are you late, are you having fun, will you dance with us- you’re not _really_ going back to Burbank already are you? Can we go with you this time? Can we, can we, can we, _can we!?_ ” He looked the part of a prince tonight, in smart purple robes and a red cape to match his father’s, quite the opposite from his usual dungarees or slacks.

“Children, give him a minute,” King William chided, but he was smiling fondly. The children, of course, took no notice. 

Queen Angelina approached, shaking her head and giggling. “You three are unstoppable,” she said. She chucked Wakko under the chin, poked Dot’s nose and smoothed down Yakko’s fur. Her smile was smaller, a little more strained, when she looked to Scratchy. “If you ask very nicely,” she said. “I do believe your favourite godfather has some gifts.”

That got their attention. “Do you!?” they all three cried. They suddenly sat ram-rod straight, gazes intense.

“Ah, maybe,” Scratchy said. He made a show of tapping his chin and patting down all his pockets. “Oh now, goodness me, vhere did they go? Could zey have run away?”

_“Scratch-yyyyyy!”_ Yakko groaned impatiently, tossing his head back. Dot batted her eyelashes, pouting sweetly. Wakko wagged his tail again.

“Impatient,” Scratchy said, clicking his tongue. But he dutifully held out the gifts. Three beautifully carved round boxes; blue and gold for Wakko, purple and gold for Yakko, pink and gold for Dot, each box engraved with their initials, and each with a matching gold necklace, shaped like a star, inserted into a tiny opening in the boxes.

“Jewellery boxes?” Wakko asked, tilting his head. He took the box engraved with his initials and shook it, sniffed it, then licked it.

“Nein, nein,” Scratchy said. Dot took hers, eyes shining. Yakko eyed his curiously, still held in Scratchy’s hands. The prince lit up with interest when Scratchy turned the necklace like a key- round and round, winding it up.

Yakko’s box opened and a familiar tune began to play. The lullaby that Queen Angelina sang for them; the same song her mother had sang, and her mother’s father had sang. The same song that had been in their family for three hundred years.

“Music boxes!” Dot said happily. She turned her necklace until her box opened, humming as the song began. Wakko followed suit, eyes narrowed in concentration, tongue sticking out more than ever. Yakko hummed in time with his sister; their mother, smiling, eyes a little too bright, began to sing.

_“On the wind, ‘cross the sea, hear this song and remember…”_

Scratchy felt dangerously close to crying himself as the royal children joined in; _“Soon you’ll be home with me. Once upon a December.”_

King William wiped at his eyes, his breath hitching. Queen Angelina’s smile wavered. Steeling himself, Scratchy held the necklace out to Yakko.

“Read vat it says,” he said.

Yakko took the necklace and, although theirs had the same engraving, his siblings leaned in closer to read his too. Yakko had to twist the pendant about as he read; the writing twisted all the way around it.

_“Together in Burbank,”_ he read. The siblings looked at each other, momentarily caught off guard- and then it sunk in for them, that they were finally getting what they’d always asked for.

“Really!?” Yakko flung his arms around him, hugging him tightly. He quickly began to ask questions about packing, when they were leaving, how long they could stay, what they could do when they arrived. Wakko beamed, bouncing on Scratchy’s knee. Dot squealed, pulling her necklace on, smiling and smiling at them all, fit to burst.

“We can really go?” she asked delightedly. 

“Yes, my love,” William said, patting her on the head. If they noticed how the king’s voice wavered, none of them said anything. “Yes, you can go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


An hour later, Scratchy, Angelina and William slipped away, into a quiet side-room to discuss their plans.

“All is vell?” Scratchy inquired.

“The ship is nearly ready,” William confirmed. “The fastest one we have. You won’t be taking the usual route. It will be a little longer, but it should keep Salazar from becoming suspicious.”

He wanted to ask them, again, to come with him and the children. But he knew the answer. They couldn’t. They couldn’t abandon their people.

“We’ll send for you once it’s safe,” Angelina said. “I- I have letters for them. To explain.” Her voice shook. “You’ll have to read Wakko’s to him. You know he doesn’t like reading.”

“Gladly,” Scratchy said. His throat hurt, his eyes stung, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “I vill keep zem safe,” he said. “Always.”

None of them noticed the two little mice in the corner. Silently, the smaller mouse pulled his companion back into the servant’s quarters.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Narf!” Pinky glanced back over his shoulder. “Gee, they sound so sad, Brain.” He twirled his tail in his hands. “Is King Saladbar causing trouble again?”

_“Salazar,”_ Brain corrected with a sigh. “And yes, Pinky. It seems he is.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The night before they were due to leave, it all came crumbling down. Salazar struck faster than they would have thought.

It wasn’t until later, much later, that Scratchy heard the rumours of the dark magic that King Salazar invoked to bring the reign of the Warners to an end. He had vowed, once, that he would not rest until he saw the end of the Warner line. It was time, Salazar said, for someone stronger to rule. He’d spat his threat in William’s face; Scratchy had been present for the doomed peace-meeting. It had come to nothing. Salazar had marched out with his guards at his heels. Salazar had been cold and cruel, but Scratchy hadn’t noticed any signs of magic from him. Not then. And yet, the stories didn’t surprise him.

It wouldn’t come back to him until it was all done. For now, he ran through the halls of the palace with the nobles, the staff, the King and Queen and the princes and princess.

“Daddy!” Dot cried as the screams grew louder, as the bangs and gunfire grew.

“Hurry, children!” William called over his shoulder. He coughed desperately as he ran, leaning on Angelina for support, but he held his sword all the same. “Stay together!”

But Yakko suddenly skidded to a halt, one hand clutching his pendant. “My music box!” he cried. To Scratchy’s horror, the crown prince pulled away and ran back in the direction of his room. Wakko and Dot immediately followed, both of them calling their brother’s name.

_“KIDSES!”_ Scratchy sprinted after them. “Come back! Come back, quickly!”

As usual, they did not do what they were told.

He shoved his way through the terrified crowd. He heard gunshots, screams of terror; glass shattering, doors smashing in. Shouts and threats, cries for mercy. He could see fire outside, smell smoke in the air, and all he could think was that he _had_ to get those three kids to safety. He simply had to. Even if Warnerstock fell tonight, those children would be safe.

He burst into Yakko’s room. “Vat are you three thinking!?” he demanded. The little royals huddled together dressed in their nightclothes, with heavy coats thrown on top, clutching a small bag of belongings each.

“I just-” Yakko started, but there was another crash, far too close for comfort. Wakko whimpered, clutching Yakko tightly. Dot’s eyes looked ready to pop from her head, they were so wide. She looked at Scratchy, a silent plea for him to fix this.

He would do his best.

“Hurry,” he said, herding them back towards the door, but then an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“It’s not safe that way,” the voice said. Scratchy turned and there was a little white mouse peeking out from a passage in the wall. He wore a tiny version of a uniform, a servant’s uniform; his voice was surprisingly deep for such a little fellow.

“This way,” the mouse said, beckoning impatiently. “Through the servant’s quarters. It will take you out the back way.”

“Thank you,” Scratchy said breathlessly. He had to duck to fit into the passage, though the children could fit with ease. He heard a tiny thump, and heard Yakko say, “My music box!” but the mouse said, _“Go!”_ and the door slammed shut behind them, and not a moment too soon. As soon as it closed, they could hear the bedroom door slam open. There was shouting, someone said, “Alright, mouse, where are they?”

They didn’t wait to hear anymore. Scratchy ushered the children ahead of him, and they ran like their lives depended on it.

_Our lives_ do _depend on it,_ he thought. He could have laughed, if he didn’t feel so close to crying. For Salazar’s soldiers to be so deep in the palace…

What did that mean for Angelina and William?

  
  
  
  
  
  


The wind was blowing harshly, the snow coming down heavily by the time they got outside. It was quieter in the gardens, but they could still faintly hear the sounds of violence, even from here.

“Scratchy?” Wakko tugged on his sleeve, shoulders drooping. “Where’s Mummy and Daddoo?”

“They’ll catch up,” Scratchy said. He hoped his smile was convincing. “Now hurry, ve can’t vaste any more time.” For once, they did as he said and ran with him without further comment. Yakko glanced back at the palace.

“Do you think the mouse is okay?” he asked, and they slipped through a side gate.

“I’m sure he is,” Scratchy lied. How many lies would he have to tell them tonight? How would he ever explain all this to them? _The letters,_ he thought, despairing. _Angelina never gave me the letters._

“My music box…” Yakko’s ears drooped.

“I vill make you another,” Scratchy promised. “But ve must hurry.” He picked up Dot; the princess clung to him, worryingly quiet.

The town was in chaos. Soldiers from Ticktokia marched through the streets, fighting the Warnerstock soldiers. Civilians ran every which way, looking for safety or some form of shelter. Children cried, adults shouted and there was _so much fire,_ too much.

And in the midst of it all, were carriages and cars, trams and trains. Exits. Dangerous in their own way, no guarantee that they could get to the docks, but it was _hope._

“Quickly now,” Scratchy said. The children were quiet as they ran, ducking through the crowds, and Scratchy only prayed that no one would recognise the Warners.

He and Dot jumped onto the back of the nearest train with ease as it began to pick up speed. Yakko scooped up Wakko and tossed him on; a young man caught him, patting him on the back reassuringly.

And Yakko, only nine, struggled to keep up with the train as it hurried towards the end of the platform.

“Yakko!” Scratchy handed Dot to the nearest passenger and held his hand out. “Yakko, take my hand!” They just about reached each other and he held onto the little prince tightly. He wished he could yell at the driver to stop, to slow down; the train was going too fast, he struggled to hold onto Yakko and not lose his balance; he couldn’t pull Yakko on board.

“Hold on,” Scratchy said. Wakko thrashed against the man holding him, reaching out desperately, clutching at thin air. Yakko’s hand began to slip from his and Dot shouted, “ _Help_ him!”

“Don’t let go,” Yakko pleaded. For one awful moment, Scratchy saw true fear in his eyes; a panic and terror he never would have associated with the zany little royal until tonight. A look that did not suit Yakko, their cheerful little chatterbox, their funny monkey; always laughing, always cracking jokes.

Fear did not belong in Yakko’s eyes. In any of their eyes.

And no sooner had he thought this, that Yakko’s hand was pulled from his as the prince stumbled.

The force of it yanked Yakko backwards; he slipped on the ice and fell off the platform, crashing onto the tracks below. He gave one short scream and didn’t get up again.

“Yakko! _YAKKO!”_

_“YAKKO!”_

  
  
  
  
  
  


The last thing Yakko heard was screams. He heard Scratchy and Wakko scream his name. He heard Dot give a wordless, high-pitched shriek; it echoed in his ears. He heard the people of Acme Falls screaming in terror, as their lives and country collapsed around them.

And then there was silence and darkness. He didn’t remember anything after that.

He didn’t remember anything for a long time.


	2. A Rumour In Acme Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acme Falls is gloomy and bleak, but the people have always been an imaginative sort. Meanwhile, Brain's next big scheme is in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but I'm honestly blown away by the comments so far, you're too sweet 💕

_“It's a rumor, a legend, a mystery. Something whispered in an alleyway, or through a crack!”_ \- Anastasia

  
  
  


There was a rumour in Acme Falls. A rumour, a legend, a mystery- something that kept a spark of imagination alive in the weary townspeople. It wasn’t a harmless little rumour; certainly, no one would be caught discussing it where the king’s men could hear them, or it would mean their arrest.

No, this rumour was a threat to King Salazar’s security.

All knew what happened the night Warnerstock fell. King Salazar’s forces had descended upon the Warner castle in the dead of night. His soldiers had terrorised the city. Many had lost their lives, including King William The Good and Queen Angelina The Wise. Princess Dot and Prince Wakko were whisked away to safety by the Duke Otto von Scratchansniff, and were still safely tucked away in Burbank. A thorn in Salazar’s side, but one he seemed content to leave be for now.

And then there was Prince Yakko, the subject of this rumour-myth-legend-mystery.

No one knew what had happened to him. He vanished that night, never to be seen or heard from again.

Some said they’d seen him flee the castle with his siblings. Some insisted they saw him in the city that night. But if so, where was he now? And could a nine year old really have survived this long without help?

Everyone knew why King Salazar desperately hoped Yakko was dead: the boy would be fourteen now. Old enough to rule. Old enough for people to rally behind and believe in. 

Besides, who didn’t love a good fairytale?

  
  
  
  
  
  


Truth be told, Brain thought it was a load of codswallop. He didn’t know what had happened to the Warners after he ushered them into that passage, but clearly they’d somehow gotten separated. 

The most logical conclusion was that Yakko had perished that night with his parents.

He’d be lying if he said, deep down, he didn’t feel a small twinge of sadness at the idea. The Warners had been sweet children. Whacky, troublesome and utterly zany- but sweet. Kind to the servants, to the people who came to petition the King, to the people of the court. Anyone and everyone. They were only truly _rude_ when provoked. Otherwise, it seemed to him that they’d wished to befriend everyone they came into contact with.

He’d woken up hours after the slaughter ended, to Pinky shaking him, calling his name and crying. “Brain? Brain, wake up!”

It had been worryingly quiet. The palace had, what felt like second before, been in utter chaos. And now it was silent as the grave.

Even Brain winced at the internal comparison. 

“What’s happened?” he demanded of his friend. “Where are the King and Queen?” But he knew, oh, he knew. Had they lived, there would have been sounds of celebration.

Pinky’s ears and tail drooped. Tears brimmed in his eyes and he looked at the floor, hugging himself. “It’s all gone _wrong,_ Brain,” he said quietly, too quietly for boisterous Pinky.

Brain nodded. Indeed it had. It had all gone horribly wrong. He struggled to his feet, head spinning, and a glimmer of gold caught his eye- the little trinket Prince Yakko had reached for, just before Brain slammed the passage shut. What had he called it? A music box? It was a pretty thing, purple and gold, engraved with Yakko’s initials. 

“And the princes?” Brain asked. He walked to the music box and traced his hand around the rim, lingering on the prince’s initials. “The princess?”

“Dunno,” Pinky said. His voice was still choked, but he hastened to Brain’s side and eyed the box curiously. “That’s pretty,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“It’s Prince Yakko’s.” He sighed. “Help me carry this, won’t you, Pinky?”

It wasn’t until late the next day, when the dust settled, that they got the full story. Wakko, Dot and Scratchansniff escaping on a ship. Yakko, nowhere to be found.

And as soon as they arrived in Burbank, Duke Scratchansniff announced a reward of ten million gold pieces for Yakko’s safe return.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Acme Falls was bleak, no getting around it. Given that it was winter, it was even worse than usual. Only five years ago, the streets would have been lined with lanterns and lights; there would have been food stalls and singers, to warm the cold days and nights, and entertain the people.

Now, it felt like a ghost town, despite the crowd.

Looming over it all was the abandoned palace. King Salazar had claimed the largest palace the Warners owned for himself, up in the hills. Out of sight of Acme Falls, being miles away, but close enough that it felt like he could descend at any moment. 

On a hill, surrounded by high walls, was Baron Plotz’s mansion. The contrast was stark: the starving citizens below, the rich and merry tax collector watching them all. 

He was probably the most hated man in Warnerstock, next to Salazar himself. Quite the impressive feat, Brain had to admit.

As he made his way through the crowd, business complete, the usual whispers reached him.

“Ten million gold pieces-”

“A royal sum-”

“All three may live-”

“We could be _free!_ ” This last whisper was abruptly hushed by the young woman’s companions, all of them glancing over their shoulders warily, but the only guard nearby was Ralph, and god knew he wasn’t exactly trouble.

“Psst, Brain! Bbbbrrraaaiiiinnn!” And there was Pinky, standing on a wall and waving his arms, bouncing up and down for Brains attention. As if there was a chance of missing him.

Brain joined him on the wall, holding his coat tighter against him. 

“How’d it go?” Pinky asked brightly.

“We have the theatre,” Brain said proudly. “All we need now is the boy.” He clapped Pinky on the shoulder, looking out on their grim town. “Think of it, my friend. No more forging papers, no more stolen goods. We’ll be out of here- you, me, and Prince Yakko Warner.” He smiled, rubbing his hands together. “One look at the music box and they’ll think we’ve brought the real prince. And by the time they realise, we’ll be off spending the reward money! We’ll be _rich,_ Pinky!” He laughed, head thrown back. “Who else could pull it off but you and me?”

“Narf!” Pinky nodded, smiling- but his smile soon vanished. “Aw, but Brain, it’s _lying._ ”

“It’s ten million gold pieces,” Brain said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Now, come. It’s freezing out here.”

They headed back in the direction of the palace, Pinky fiddling with a loose thread in his scarf, shoulders drooping. “I still think it’s lying,” he muttered.

Brain pretended not to hear him.

And the whispers followed them the whole walk back.

“I got this from the palace, Queen Angelina’s own cloak!”

“Authentic paintings of Queen Angelina’s parents on their wedding-”

“Duke Scratchansniff’s pyjamas-”

“This robe belonged to Prince Wakko, I swear!”

Maybe some of it was authentic, and some of it wasn’t. There were certainly plenty of treasure hunters that sneaked into the palace. But all the same, it amused Brain to no end. 

He thought of the music box, safely hidden away, and smiled.

"What d'you wanna do tonight, Brain?" Pinky asked.

"Get ready," Brain said. "We'll head to the theatre after dinner and make our preparations."

  
  
  
  
  
  


A big brown dog turned to his companion as they looked through the rubbish in search of food. “Do you think it’s true?” he asked, nodding towards the crowds of the market. “Do you think Prince Yakko’s alive too?”

His companion, a small cat, gave an elegant shrug. “Who knows?” she said. She gave the rubbish a disgruntled look. “Nothing here,” she grumbled. “C’mon, Runt, let’s try near the butchers again.”

They’d had no luck last time, but it was worth a shot.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Acme Falls hoped in fairytales. A lost prince, the rightful king, rising up from the dead to dethrone the evil usurper. Bringing back peace and prosperity. 

It would still be years until Wakko was old enough to rule, and no one really knew what the Warner guardians were up to, all the way out in Burbank. But Yakko…

Well, as it turned out, they needn’t look too far for him. Not far at all.

Only a few miles away, in a run-down orphanage, a young toon looked up from reading to the younger children as one of the matrons barged in.

“Come on, you,” she barked, gesturing at him. “Time to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Yakko!


	3. Journey To The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's full of choices, but no one ever mentions how fear can freeze you in your tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading twice in one day? Honestly, I'm as surprised as you are

_“Come, my darling, homeward bound. When all is lost, then all is found.”_ \- Frozen 2

  
  
  


“You should count yourself lucky,” the head matron said, nose in the air. “A job in Baron Plotz’s estate is better than the likes of you deserve.”

Elo barely heard her. He was walking backwards, waving at the other kids in the orphanage, all of them crowding in the windows and waving, calling out good luck. Plenty were younger than him, some were his age and some were even older. Most didn’t leave until they were eighteen. But Elo was “more trouble than he was worth,” and so, at fourteen, he was leaving.

To work for Baron Thaddeus Plotz. The idea made his fur stand on end.

“You go straight down this path until you reach the sign for Acme Falls. Turn left, and go up the hill. There will be a sign for the Plotz mansion,” the head matron continued. “It will take you around the back and-”

“Bye, everybody!”

_“Are you listening?”_

Elo startled, turning to face her. She wasn’t much bigger than him, a tiny woman in truth, but her glare put Medusa to shame.

“I’m listening,” Elo lied. “I’m totally listening!”

She grabbed him by the scarf and dragged him to the gate. He twisted about to keep waving goodbye, pulling funny faces as he did.

“You’ve been a thorn in all our sides since you were brought here,” the matron snapped. “Nothing but trouble, head in the clouds and acting like a king- instead of the nameless little nobody you are! For the last five years we’ve fed you, clothed you, we’ve-”

“Put a roof over my head,” Elo said, rolling his eyes. They’d reached the gate; the matron’s grip on his scarf was so strong that Elo was bent backwards. He blinked at her innocently, smiling. She wasn’t impressed.

“You can’t even remember your own name,” she said, throwing the gate open. “But you’re sharp as a barrel of monkeys when it suits you.”

_‘We’re not monkeys, we’re just cuckoo!’_ Elo shook his head to clear it. He could already feel a headache building, thrumming in the back of his head. The matron must have thought he was disagreeing with her, because her glare hardened.

“You may think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’ve not a clue what the world’s like, boy. But it’s time you realise your place-” She shoved him out the gate. “And be grateful for it!” With that, she slammed the gate shut behind him, locking it. She walked back to the orphanage without a backwards glance.

Elo thumbed his nose at her back and marched away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He wanted to say he wasn’t frightened at all. Not the least bit nervous. He wanted to be brave. But the truth was, the longer he walked and the darker it got, the more frightened he became. He was all alone on the road, and the more he talked to himself the more he could hear his voice become high-pitched.

“Be grateful, Elo,” he said to himself, mimicking the matron’s gruff tones. He glared over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll tell ya what I’m grateful for!” he shouted, though there was no way anyone could hear him. “I’m grateful to get away!” He faced forward again, fists clenched and walked on. The snow was deep and even by his standards it was freezing. Toon or not, he wished he had some shoes. His brown slacks were torn at the hem, his green scarf was too thin to be of much use; his dark green coat, while heavy and warm, was about three sizes too big for him, reaching down to his shins. His yellow shirt was equally too large, slipping off his shoulder, patched at the elbows and torn at the collar, his hat kept slipping down nearly to his eyes, and one of his gloves were torn. Elo just supposed he was lucky he was a toon; a human would be frozen solid, especially without shoes; they wouldn’t stand a chance. But he was a toon, and covered in black fur to boot- he was as fine as could be expected.

Granted, he was pretty sure that was an icicle forming on his nose.

He sneezed, wiping his nose and face. He tugged his bag further back up his shoulder and kept going, marching through the snow. It was cold and dim, but he still smiled at the snowflakes, throwing his head back and opening his mouth wide to try and catch them on his tongue.

The small bag he clutched contained only a spare shirt, as threadbare and old as the one he wore, and an old book of fairytales, dog-eared and read so often it was tearing at the spine, but he couldn’t give it up for anything.

The only thing he had of any value was his pendant. It was gold, real gold (or so the orphanage’s staff had believed) studded with tiny supposedly-real jewels and shaped like a star. On the back, in tiny writing, were the words _Together In Burbank._

Unbidden, Elo slowed down, his hand automatically reaching into his coat to clutch the necklace tightly. He remembered the one and only time the staff had tried to take it from him. He’d only been at the orphanage a few days.

_“Come now, don’t be selfish, don’t you want to help your new little friends?”_ The head matron’s tone had been sickeningly sweet. The gardener (such as he was, Elo never really saw him do his job) and one of the teachers had held Elo’s arms as the matron tried to snatch the necklace. He knew what they’d do. They’d take it away, sell it, he’d never see it again.

So he’d screamed.

It was the only time they’d tried to take the necklace. It was also the only time his toon powers went truly and completely out of control.

The force of his screams had broken the windows in the room. Anvils had appeared from nowhere, crashing from the ceiling to the floor. Elo stomped his foot and the floor cracked underneath him. A boot had appeared and kicked the gardener square in the stomach; the teacher had the good sense to flee, screaming.

They’d locked him in the attic when the chaos ceased, but no one had tried to take his necklace ever again.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was dark by the time he reached the sign for Acme Falls. To the left, as promised, was a small, thin path leading up the hill; the snow was swept away, showing that the small path was covered in cobblestones, not a weed or speck of dirt in sight, even a few street lamps to light the way, torches blazing inside. 

To the right was the larger path, leading to Acme Falls. Covered in thick blankets of snow, overgrown trees and brambles, and no light in sight.

If he went left, he’d eventually reach Plotz’s estate. Sure, Elo didn’t doubt that the servant’s quarters would at least be warm, he’d be fed. Maybe the work wouldn’t even be too bad. After all, there was a whole _staff._ It wasn’t like he’d be doing everything by himself.

But following orders had never been Elo’s strong point.

And it was _Plotz._ Plotz the tax collector, who made up taxes when he saw fit, all so he could take money as soon as anyone earned some. He’d risen rapidly in power once King Salazar took over, even Elo knew that much. 

_Traitor,_ a tiny part of him thought. It was there and gone before he could even think to wonder why it mattered.

He didn’t want to work for Plotz. He didn’t want to work for _anyone,_ let alone one of _Saladbar’s_ lackeys. 

He tapped his pendant, humming impatiently under his breath. It didn’t matter what he wanted, he knew that. Why would it? He was just...Elo the orphan. Little orphan Elo.

Little nobody Elo.

It wasn’t even his real _name._ It was just the first name they’d suggested when he was brought to the orphanage. He’d been found wandering around days after the invasion, feeling dizzy and ill, with a horrible lump on his head and not a clue as to what was going on. He’d had a small bag of belongings, mostly clothing- plain and dark, but clearly well-made and expensive. But when the kindly old man who’d found him asked for his name, Elo hadn’t been able to answer. When he was asked where his parents were, Elo had only shrugged, as baffled as the old man.

_Together in Burbank…_

Had they been trying to flee that night? Were they dead? Had they left him behind? 

Were they looking for him?

“Go left,” Elo said to himself. “That’s what she said, go left.” He scowled at the path. “I know what I’ll find that way,” he grumbled. “I’ll be Elo the orphan forever.” Slowly, his black eyes went to the right. “But...If I go right…” He took a step forward, then stopped. The headache from earlier had subsided, but he still felt... _Funny._ He didn’t feel quite right.

_“Clueless,”_ the staff always spat. _“Stupid kid. Crazy kid.”_

“I _do_ have a clue,” Elo muttered, clutching his pendant so tightly it dug into his hand, stinging even through his glove. 

He could go right. He could go to Acme Falls, and then...Then he could get on a train, a boat, he could _go._ He could go to Burbank. He could find his family. How many toons were there that looked like him? He’d never seen one. There were some that looked similar, but there was always a difference; more detailed eyes, different fur or a different coloured nose, the shape of the ears or tail. 

He could find them. He _could._

Or maybe he was being clueless.

Elo looked up at the stars and, with the fury of a child, shouted out; “Come on, help a guy out!” He paced up and down. “Send me a sign! A hint! _Anything!_ ” He kicked the sign-post and flopped onto the nearest snowbank, kicking his legs in the air.

“Anything,” he repeated.

  
  
  
  
  
  


His stomach rumbled, and Elo sighed. He’d lost track of how long he’d been lying there.

Though he knew what the result would be, he still snapped his fingers. Nothing. He tried to reach into his hammerspace. Nothing.

_Some toon I am,_ he thought glumly. There’d been human and toon kids at the orphanage; the toons could summon pies to belt each other with, apples to drop on each other’s heads, or summon peanuts to throw at each other. It was all to be _funny,_ but it still resulted in _food._ Food they could eat all to themselves, or share around, depending on the toon kid in question. Some were nicer than others.

Not Elo. His powers hardly ever worked. They only seemed to surface when he was _truly_ upset or angry. Even then, he’d never managed to summon a snack. He’d certainly never managed the destruction he had when they tried to take his necklace ever again- and he had to admit, he’d tried, too curious to leave it be. No luck.

But he supposed that was as good a sign as any. Here he was, lying in the snow, hungry and alone. No one was going to appear and tell him what to do. 

_“Life isn’t fair,”_ one of the teachers always said.

Sighing, Elo hauled himself to his feet, stumbling in the snow. “I wish I could find them,” he said to himself. But even he had to be realistic sometimes, right? What real chance did he have? He had no family and his future had been decided for him. He was already plenty late; he’d be in trouble as soon as he arrived.

Great start.

One last glance towards Acme Falls and he turned left. One last glance up at the sky-

And there was a shooting star.

A big, bright, _beautiful_ shooting star, so low he almost felt he could reach up and grab it. It soared overhead…

Directly towards Acme Falls.

Elo stood watching its path, staring until his eyes strained, until the shooting star disappeared from sight.

_“Oh,”_ he whispered, and a grin split his face. “I wish I could find them,” he repeated. Laughing, Elo turned right and _ran._

_Together in Burbank,_ he thought as he ran. He ran so hard his bag kept hitting his back, the snow flew up around him. _Together in Burbank, together in Burbank._

He could do this. He was going to Acme Falls. He was going to Burbank.

He was going to find his family.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elo wanted to be brave. He felt so giddy that he laughed as he ran, running from Plotz and the orphanage; from the matrons and teachers, running and running away from it all and running _towards_ the future he wanted, the one he dreamed of.

He’d dreamed of a family all these years and they were _out there,_ they just _had_ to be.

Maybe they really were looking for him.

He cartwheeled over a snowbank, he swung off a low-hanging branch, running until he was out of breath and had no choice but to slow down, but he kept walking steadily, skipping and jogging in turns, humming an old tune as he went.

Surely he couldn’t ask for a clearer sign than a shooting star?

He wasn’t going to take orders. He was going to chase the future he wanted. One step at a time, and he wouldn’t let _anyone_ take this hope from him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was well and truly late by the time he stumbled into the town. Despite the late hour, there were still people around. They looked miserable, Elo thought. Every last one of them. Even the ones who were smiling.

There was a tall, fat guard directing traffic. Elo almost considered asking for directions, but swiftly moved on. Sure, he knew that technically _everyone_ he would meet around here worked for Salazar in some form or other, but he didn’t fancy chatting with a guard. Besides, what if Plotz sent someone looking for him? Even Elo knew when to keep his head down.

He reached the train station and looked at the clock-tower: nearly midnight. Were any trains even going at this hour?

Well, he hadn’t come this far to back down so quickly. He hurried to the nearest ticket booth- and _finally_ some good luck! There was a (very grumpy looking) man sitting inside the booth, counting change.

Elo had to stand on his toes to see over the counter. “One ticket to Burbank, please!” he said brightly.

The man looked at him with disinterest. “Exit visa,” he grunted.

Elo blinked, tilting his head. “What’s that?” he asked.

“No exit visa?” the man asked. Elo shook his head. The man smiled.

“Oh, no exit visa. Well then, kid, that means _you don’t get a ticket._ ” So said, the man slammed the shutters closed. One had a bright red _‘Closed’_ sign pasted on it.

_“Hey!”_ Elo yelled. He pounded on the shutters so hard they shook. “Open up! I know you’re still in there! I know you can hear me!”

Be that as it may, the man didn’t answer again.

Blowing a raspberry at the shutters, Elo turned away, grumbling to himself about stupid grown-ups.

“Psst, kid! Kid, over here!”

He paused, and the voice said, “Yeah, you- little toon.” It was a grey cat speaking, lounging on a dog’s head, both of them toons. The dog’s mouth hung open, but the cat eyed Elo up and down, something sharp in her gaze.

“Looking to get to Burbank?” she asked. 

“I am,” Elo said. The dog came closer and the cat stood up on her hind legs, staring at Elo’s face. She barely blinked.

And then she smiled.

“See Pinky and The Brain,” she said. “They can help.” She paused, apparently considering her own words, and shrugged. “Well. Brain can help at least.” The dog nodded in agreement. His eyes were bright and he nudged Elo’s hand with his nose.

“Pinky and the Brain,” Elo repeated. He pat the dog on the head, who licked his hand. “Where can I find them? They won’t ask for a lot of money will they? I don’t have any- like, really, I don’t have _any._ ” He turned out his empty pockets to emphasise his point. All that was inside was some specks of dust.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” the cat laughed. “No one around here does. They’ll be at the old palace. You just tell ‘em that Rita and Runt sent you.”

The dog- Runt- nodded. “They’ll get you to Burbank,” he said. “No problem.”

“Thanks,” Elo said. He thought he should shake their hands or something, he even had the brief, mad urge to bow. He settled for scratching Rita behind the ear and patting Runt again. 

“Go on, kid, you don’t wanna be stuck out here tonight,” Rita said, waving him away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They watched the kid walk away. Only when he was out of earshot did Runt speak up.

“Rita,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t he look like…?”

“He does,” Rita said. They headed back to their alley, keeping a wary eye out for Salazar’s guards. They knew the rules: don’t say _their_ names too loudly. Don’t say them at all if it could be helped.

But Runt decided to risk it. “Prince Yakko,” he whispered, more to himself than to Rita. “Prince Yakko Warner.”

“The right age, toon type, and heading to Burbank,” Rita agreed. She sounded thoughtful. Maybe even a little hopeful. “Who knows?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: when I got the idea to write this, I wanted Yakko's "orphan name" to mean something like talkative, smart or chatty. In the end, I took "Elo" from "Eloquent." I also nearly picked "Fakt," just fact with a k, but Elo stuck
> 
> Next up, Yakko, Pinky and Brain finally meet!


	4. Once Upon A December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elo can't quite shake the feeling he's been in the palace before; so when Brain and Pinky offer a bargain, he takes it.  
> Maybe, just maybe, his family is looking for him after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last update before Christmas Day! Elo/Yakko, Pinky and the Brain meet at last
> 
> If anyone's interested, I'm on tumblr: @i-lay-my-life-before-queen  
> It's mostly a Queen blog, as that's the fandom I usually write for, but if anyone has questions about this fic, or just wants to chat about Animaniacs, I'm right there 😊

_ “Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember.”  _ \- Anastasia

  
  
  


The palace gave Elo the creeps.

It would have been beautiful five years ago, but now it looked like a fairytale gone wrong. Windows were broken, he could see scorch marks on the walls, bullet holes...He trod carefully, hopping over shards of glass and discarded junk.

The gates hadn’t been locked, which he supposed made sense since, technically, two people still lived here, but once he approached the palace another problem became obvious. One: the front doors were barricaded by planks of wood. Two: every entry way and window he came across was locked, or boarded up. He could see tiny gaps, big enough for mice maybe, but nothing he could possibly squeeze through.

He supposed he could try and break a window if all else failed.

Elo yawned as he walked up and down, squinting in the dark, hoping an entrance would magically reveal itself. It was past midnight; he was tired and hungry, and he just wanted to get heading to Burbank. Was that really so much to ask?

Just as he was about to give in and chuck a rock through the nearest window, he came upon a cramped side entrance. Probably for servants. The door had been knocked off its hinges, and the entrance had been boarded up like the rest- but very shoddily. There were huge gaps; not quite big enough for Elo to squeeze through, but he could surely pry the boards away.

_ Don’t even try it,  _ he told himself, but reached into hammerspace anyway. If he could just summon a mallet, even a small one, or a crowbar, he could easily get rid of the planks.

A crowbar flickered into existence and just as quickly disappeared. One more try, and only the outline appeared in his hands, a shadow of an idea, and then it was gone.

Elo glared at the planks. Fine then. He’d have to do it the old fashioned way.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the first board on eye-level with him and tugged with all his might. It creaked and groaned, but with a few sharp tugs the board came loose. For a moment, Elo paused, glancing over his shoulder. This was breaking and entering, right? And of all places to be caught sneaking into…

For a moment, he imagined King Salazar demanding to know what he’d been doing.

_ Well, ya see,  _ Elo imagined saying.  _ A drafty haunted old palace seemed a better place to sleep than Plotz’s place. Way cosier.  _ And then if fate was kind, Salazar’s head would explode and Warnerstock would be free again.

The idea made him giggle and the boards finally came free- not just the one he’d tugged on, but three more that were nailed to it. He staggered under their combined weight and tossed them aside. Just like that, he had a lovely little doorway.

“Knock-knock,” he said and went inside.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The first thing he did was sneeze at how dusty it was in here. It was definitely a servant’s entrance; there were some overturned buckets, a cracked coat rack, even a filthy pair of boots left behind. The inner door hung off its hinges, creaking ominously, and Elo scuttled past quickly.

The corridor he found himself in wasn’t much better. Moth-eaten curtains, dust an inch thick; faded spots on the walls where paintings had been taken, glass from shattered windows and eerily silent.

“Hello?” Elo called. “Anyone here?”

No answer. He had no idea where Pinky and the Brain could be. But, if they were illegally squatting, it stood to reason that they’d hide further in, right?

Well, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Elo continued down the corridor, trying to ignore the growing sense of nausea in his stomach.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He felt like he was being watched. He felt like he’d been here before, or at least somewhere like it. He shrugged his jacket off as he walked, rolling it up into a ball and shoving it into his bag, along with his hat. Despite how chilly it was, he felt almost feverish.

If it wasn’t for how dirty everything was, deeper inside the palace would have looked normal. There were still paintings on the walls; landscapes and portraits. A long red carpet ran down the length of the corridor, there were chandeliers overhead. Tables that would have been lovely once, vases and statues. And, of course, filth everywhere: dust and cobwebs.

And yet…

_ He was running down the hall, laughing as a woman cried, “Young masters, get back here! It’s bath time!” He was hand in hand with another child, another boy that looked just like him, small and wearing a red cap. _

His head hurt. It was so late and cold, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was no wonder he couldn’t think straight.

Shivering, unable to shake the odd feeling that someone was nearby, that someone was missing, Elo took a sharp turn right towards the bedrooms (how did he know that?) and pulled open the first door he came to.

His first thought was that it was a little girl’s room. It would have been a cute room when it was in use, a pretty room. The wallpaper was pink with roses, the four-poster bed was on a little raised dias, with gossamer pink and lilac curtains and covered in a ridiculous amount of pillows, a thick pink duvet. There were still teddy bears and dolls on the bed. It was unmade. The little girl must have left in a hurry.

The princess must have left in a hurry.

Slowly, Elo made his way toward the settee by the window. The idea of trying to sleep in the princess’s bed made him feel dizzier than ever. He dropped his bag and it hit the ground with a soft, muffled  _ thump.  _ He lay curled up on his side, facing the dollhouse against the opposite wall: it was beautiful, a miniature version of the palace. It hung open, and he could see dolls of the king and queen, Princess Dot and the princes, a few servants, and a pair of white horses with golden manes poking their noses out of the stables.

There were more dolls on the shelves, fairies and princesses, fairytale characters. Teddies and unicorns, horses with rainbow wings. He could see snowglobes and jewellery boxes on the vanity. The wardrobe took up an entire wall, painted white, patterned with yet more roses and fairies; the doors were open a crack. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but Elo couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something would jump out from it.

He shut his eyes-

_ A little girl smiling up at him, clutching his pant leg. A truly tiny girl, just learning to walk, a daisy-chain around her neck. _

_ Sitting on the end of the bed, helping to tuck her in as a man in a long blue robe asked, “Who’s the cutest girl?” and the little girl cheerfully replied, “I am!” _

And finally slept.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brain was dangerously close to ripping his fur out. The toon on stage was near enough the same age as Yakko, but far too tall with a brown sheen to his fur; his tail was too straight.

He was the closest match they’d seen so far and even still, the differences were far too obvious.

“Next please,” Brain called, rubbing his forehead. Pinky crossed the boy’s name off the list.

The next toon, and the last of the night, marched onto the stage. He was easily in his twenties with  _ yellow  _ fur and a pink nose, taller even than Ralph the Guard and built like a strongman from a circus. His outfit certainly would fit in at a circus: a dark purple leotard and short green cape. He took a deep drag of a cigarette and drawled, “Brother, sister, it’s me- Yakko.”

“Oh for  _ heaven’s sake, _ ” Brain hissed.

Slowly, looking absolutely baffled, Pinky crossed the man’s name off the list. “Er…” He glanced at Brain. 

“We’re done here,” Brain announced. He climbed down off the table and left without glancing back, only pausing at the door for Pinky to catch up.

It was midnight. A whole afternoon, evening  _ and  _ night wasted.

“That went...Okay?” Pinky phrased it as a question.

“Now is not the time for your relentless optimism, Pinky,” Brain sighed. A stagehand locked the door behind them, yawning and clearly disgruntled by the late hour.

“Bed time!” Pinky said, cheerful as ever. Brain tore up their lists as they walked and Pinky skipped through the snow, twirling through the bits of paper as they fell.

“What do you want to do tomorrow night, Brain?” he asked.

“The same thing we did tonight, Pinky,” Brain said. “We’re back to square one. Our search for Prince Yakko continues.” They’d only had the theatre for today, and paying for it had eaten into the majority of their limited funds. They were well and truly back to square one.

But he wasn’t The Brain for nothing. He’d think of something.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elo awoke abruptly as the sun began to rise. He still felt tired, like he hadn’t slept at all. His head spun and as soon as his vision straightened out he grabbed his bag off the floor and hurried out of the princess’s room. He couldn’t stand to be in there any longer.

His dreams had been muddled, shifting and changing. One moment, he was dancing with a little girl, carrying a little boy in his back. Then he was jumping out at uniformed people, hiding among pots and pans, screaming to frighten a chef in a big white hat. Last of all, curling up and dozing off on someone’s lap as they smoothed his fur. And throughout it all was that old tune, lingering at the edge of hearing, a melody without words. A song he’d always known, one he always hummed to himself; a song he didn’t have a name or lyrics for.

“Get a grip, Elo,” he muttered. Clenching his fists, he walked quickly down the corridors, jumping down the stairs.

He couldn’t afford to get distracted. He had to find Pinky and the Brain. He had to get to Burbank. He slammed the next door open, footsteps thudding as he hurried along. “Hello?” he called. “I’m looking for Pinky and the Brain! Is anyone here?” He repeated himself as he walked from room to room; he couldn’t afford to get distracted by crazy dreams, Elo told himself.

That resolution quickly vanished when he reached the ballroom.

It felt like stepping into a dream.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ “Hello?” _

Brain looked up, ears twitching. Pinky continued to eat his breakfast, but Brain set his plate down.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Nope,” Pinky said happily.

Frowning, Brain went to the door. “Someone’s there,” he said. “I heard someone.” That, at least, caught Pinky’s attention. His friend set the food aside and joined him at the door.

“Come on,” Brain said, and led the way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Slowly, Elo walked down the stairs into the ballroom. Everything was in its place. The chandeliers hung from the ceiling; a banner with the Warner family crest hung from the wall, on the far end of the room. There were banquet tables lining the walls-

_ “Wakko, stop!” The girl’s eyes narrowed. “That’s disgusting!” _

_ The boy in question ate an entire turkey and washed it down with a glass of milk. He shrugged with a lazy smile. “I’m hungry.” _

The only things missing were the thrones.

_ A woman kissed his forehead and poked his nose. “I love you, little one.” _

_ A man lifted him high, so he could pluck an apple from a tree. “There we go, my boy!” _

He didn’t realise he was humming as he walked across the room. He closed his eyes, slowly turning in place, arms thrown out. He thought he remembered-

_ Two little toons holding his hands, all of them laughing and singing as they spun rapidly in a circle, spinning and spinning until they were dizzy.  _

But he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was imagining it.

And yet…

_ “Soon you’ll be home with me,”  _ Elo sang.  _ “Once upon a December…” _

He didn’t know why he felt so close to crying. He suddenly felt very small and alone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d  _ been here before.  _ He couldn’t ignore the empty space all around him, the empty spaces  _ beside  _ him. His hands felt empty. A part of him screamed that there should have been someone there ( _ two  _ little someones) holding his hands, waiting eagerly to play a trick.

And their names were  _ there,  _ right there, on the tip of his tongue, fighting to get out.

He was snapped out of it when a deep voice shouted, “What are you doing in here!?”

His first panicked thought was,  _ Guards!  _ and he ran across the ballroom without thinking, towards the empty dias where the thrones should have been, towards the banner with the Warner crest, towards the huge family portrait underneath.

He had the mad urge to scream for parents that he didn’t have.

“Stop, hold on!” the voice cried. Elo looked over his shoulder as he ran, tripped on the stairs and crashed onto his knees. He blinked in bewilderment, gunshots and screams echoing through his mind, but it wasn’t a guard chasing him- it was a mouse. Two little white mice, one with pink eyes and one with blue; one surprisingly tall with buck-teeth and one small with a strangely round head.

“How did you get in- oh…” The smaller mouse trailed off, eyes wide. “Oh my…”

“Narf! You okay?” the taller mouse asked.

The bizarre panic was gone as quickly as it came. Elo nodded. “I’m fine,” he said, looking between them. He stood up, dusting himself off. “Are you Pinky and the Brain?” he asked. “I was told you could help.” And he was off, babbling away; “Rita and Runt said you could help. Well, Rita said  _ Brain  _ could help. I need a train ticket and-”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brain could barely focus on what the boy was saying. He looked like Yakko. It wasn’t a faint resemblence, he looked  _ exactly like Yakko.  _ He even  _ sounded  _ like him.

It didn’t help that the family portrait was just behind the boy. A shaft of light cut across Yakko’s dark eyes in the portrait, and across the eyes of the boy in front of them. The exact same eyes and red nose; the same black fur, with white fur on his face and feet; the same unusual ears and tail. A small, skinny child, talking rapidly, fidgeting instead of standing still. He may have been dressed in rags, but Brain would have to be blind to not see it.

The boy was talking so fast he didn’t seem to have noticed that neither Brain or Pinky had answered.

“Pinky,” Brain said lowly. “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“I think so, Brain,” Pinky said, tapping his chin. “But you know, I just don’t think orange is my colour. It washes me out.”

Growling, Brain grabbed him by the snout, directing his gaze towards the boy. “No, you fool,  _ the boy.  _ Look at him! He looks like-”

“Oh!” Pinky clapped. “Oh, he looks like the prince!”

“Indeed.” Brain let him go. “Indeed he does.”

“So, can you help or not?” the boy asked. He looked at them expectantly and frowned at their silence. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Apologies, child,” Brain said. “It’s just that you look very much like…” He gestured to the portrait, trailing off thoughtfully. “Hm. Never mind. You, ah, mentioned Rita and Runt?” 

The boy nodded. “Rita said Pinky and the Brain could get me to Burbank,” he said, slightly impatiently. “Is that you or not?”

_ Burbank!  _ Oh, this was just too perfect. Brain smiled. “Indeed,” he said. “The Brain, at your service. This is my associate, Pinky.”

“Hiya!” Pinky quickly scrambled up the boy, sitting on his head, skinny arms wrapped around the boy’s right ear. “Nice to meet you!”

“Uuuuuhhh, you too.” The boy had his hands on his hips. “So, can you help?” There was a wary gleam in his eyes. “I don’t have any money,” he said. “But if you need any jobs done I can help. I just- I just need a ticket to Burbank, that’s all.”

“Can I ask why?” Brain asked. “Mr…?”

“Elo,” the boy said. “I’m looking for family in Burbank.” As he said it, he clutched a small pendant on a thin gold chain.

“Easy-peasy!” Pinky laughed.

“Looking for family?” Brain repeated, hands clasped together. He scrambled up the bannister, putting him at chin-level with the child. “Couldn’t they come collect you? It’s a long journey for a child.” It was easy to sound convincingly concerned.

The boy confirmed his suspicions when he said; “Ah. Well. No, I’m an orphan.” He frowned and added, “I think.”

Pinky’s eyes abruptly filled with tears. “Oh, can we keep him, Brain?” he cried. “Can we?”

“Hush, Pinky. Now, Echo-”

_ “Elo.” _

“-You  _ think  _ you’re an orphan?” Brain held his gaze steadily.

“I don’t remember,” Elo said. He gave a sullen shrug, breaking their gaze first. “I just- I was found wandering around when I was nine…” He kicked lightly at the dusty ground. “It was after the invasion. I don’t remember anything before that.”

_ The same age. The exact toon type. Even talkative and fidgety.  _

_ And,  _ Brain thought, eyes narrowing.  _ An all too convenient backstory.  _

But Pinky was clearly prepared to take the boy in on the spot. “Poor thing,” he cooed, patting Elo’s head. His eyes brightened. “Hey! We’re going to Burbank too!”

Instantly, Elo’s whole demeanour lightened. “You are?” he demanded. His tail wagged. 

“Uh huh!” Pinky pulled the three train tickets from his hammerspace. “We got three tickets!”

Elo gave an excited  _ whoop!  _ and eagerly reached for the ticket- but before he could, Brain jumped out, grabbed the third ticket and skidded to a halt on the ground, right in front of the family portrait.

“Ah, but unfortunately,” he said. “The third ticket is for  _ him. _ ” He gestured to the painting. “Prince Yakko.”

“...Come again, Beady?”

“It’s  _ Brain,”  _ Brain snapped. The boy stuck his tongue out at him.

“We’re gonna bring Yakko home to his siblings,” Pinky said, leaning forward on Elo’s head; his hands rested on Elo’s nose. The boy went cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Pinky. 

“And you know...You do  _ greatly _ resemble him,” Brain said. He came a little closer, keeping the ticket in Elo’s line of sight. “It’s uncanny. The same age, I assume? Fourteen?”

Elo nodded.

“Hm...The same age-”

“Same eyes!” Pinky chimed in, still hanging upside down on Elo’s head. He batted his eyelashes exaggeratedly, earning a smile from the young toon.

“The same ears and nose…” Brain glanced down. “Same feet, same tail. You’re the  _ exact  _ right toon type. You even have similar, shall we say, speech habits.”  _ He was called  _ Yakko  _ for a reason. _

“Hold on, are you saying you think  _ I’m  _ Yakko?” Elo asked with a laugh. “You can’t be serious!”

“And why not?” Brain asked smoothly. He twirled the ticket; Elo’s eyes followed it. “You say you don’t know what happened to you, and no one knows what happened to him.” He caught the boy’s eyes and smiled. “You’re looking for family in Burbank…”

“And Yakko’s family is in Burbank,” Pinky said, patting Elo on the nose.

“You’ve never considered the possibility, Elo?”

Elo snorted. “Oh yeah, because sleeping on a damp floor  _ really  _ makes you feel like royalty.” He glanced at the portrait, shuffling from foot to foot. His eyes roamed over Wakko and Dot, and he shivered, looking away again. “I mean- I guess every orphan hopes they’re secretly royalty, right?”

“And somewhere, one boy is!” Pinky said happily. He finally straightened himself, sitting properly on Elo’s head again. “Ya never know, Elo!”

Elo didn’t look convinced. Not fully. His black eyes kept flickering to the portrait and the ticket; he gripped his own arm tightly, but didn’t say anything. Truth be told, the silence was surprisingly disconcerting from him.

“Alas-” Brain tucked the tickets away. “The third ticket is  _ only  _ for Prince Yakko. Good luck, Elo. Pinky, come along now.”

“But, Brain-”

_ “Come along, Pinky.”  _ One stern glare and Pinky dropped, tail between his legs. Reluctantly, he climbed down off Elo and joined Brain on the ground. Quietly, he followed in Brain’s wake as he led the way down the steps and back onto the former dance floor.

“But, Brain,” Pinky whispered. “He really looks like him.” He looked at Brain imploringly. “I like him.”

“He does look like him,” Brain agreed. “Walk a little slower, won’t you?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ They’re insane,  _ Elo told himself.  _ They’re coo-coo. _

There was no way he was Yakko. There was no way he had anything to do with the Warners. Otherwise, why wasn’t he already in Burbank? Why would they leave him behind?

But they  _ were  _ looking for Yakko, weren’t they? They were waiting for him to come home.

He looked at Wakko and Dot’s painted faces and his heart clenched. Poor kids. Poor little kids. Losing their parents, their kingdom, their  _ home,  _ and their brother all in one night.

He didn’t want to get their hopes up.

And yet…

_ A pair of strong arms lifting him up and spinning him around, a man’s deep laughter. _

_ Two squirmy little kids climbing onto his bed and huddling under the covers with him, curling up close. _

_ A woman’s sweet voice reading stories: Rapunzel, Thumbelina, Cinderella. _

_ A man with a thick accent shouting about “zany kids!” but never truly staying mad for long. _

Maybe he was dreaming it. Maybe he was making it up, desperate to fill in the big blank that was his life.

But maybe...Just maybe…

“Brain, Pinky, wait!” he cried, running after them.

They hadn’t gone far; they were barely halfway across the room on their tiny legs. “Oh, yes, Elo?” Brain asked. Pinky’s eyes lit up.

“Okay, I still think you’re insane,” Elo said, pointing at them. “You’re batty. But- okay, so, who’s to say I’m not a prince or whatever, right? I don’t know, you’re right about that. But  _ they’ll  _ know,” he said, gesturing back to the portrait. “The Prince and Princess, that Duke they’re with- they’ll know if I’m Yakko or not, and then it’s all just an honest mistake.”

“And if you’re really Yakko, then you’ll have your brother and sister back,” Pinky said. In a flash, he was climbing up Elo’s leg again, scrambling up his arm and settling on his shoulder. He gave Elo a big beaming smile.

“He’s quite right,” Brain said. “Rare as that may be. Either way, you’ll be in Burbank.”

“Right!” Elo leaned down and held a hand out; slowly, a little reluctantly, Brain climbed on.

“Well, we just need to grab our bags and we’ll be on our way.”

“Road trip!” Pinky cheered.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ralph wasn’t totally stupid. He knew plenty of folk didn’t like him; they didn’t like the uniform he wore. He was only directing traffic usually, but sometimes he had to lead people to the stocks, and then the crowds booed and hissed.

Plotz said they were booing the criminals, but Ralph didn’t think so.

It was a quiet day, it was  _ always  _ a quiet day and people lowered their voices when they passed him. It was cloudy, still early in the morning, when a young toon approached with two little white mice on his shoulders, waiting to cross the road.

The toon boy was drowning in his too-big clothes and he hunched in on himself, though Ralph smiled at him. The smaller mouse, in a faded red coat, was frowning heavily, but Ralph didn’t think he was frowning at  _ Ralph.  _ He just seemed to be frowning.

The taller mouse though, was bouncing on the boy’s shoulder, talking quickly and laughing.

As Ralph gestured for them to cross the road, the taller mouse cried, “Make way for His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Yakko Warner!”

Lots of things happened at once: the smaller mouse reached across to the boy’s other shoulder to hit the tall mouse  _ really  _ hard, right on the nose. “How are you  _ this  _ stupid!?” he snarled. People looked up, gaping; lots of them ducked their heads and pretended they hadn’t heard that name. The toon boy rolled his eyes, cheeks a little pink, and ran right past Ralph, running to the train station.

And the badge, given to Ralph by King Salazar, began to glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pinky is ready to break out the adoption papers and who can blame him?
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone! Stay safe 💕


	5. In The Dark of The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salazar pays an important price. Plotz and Ralph have a train to catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salazar makes an entrance

_“I got voodoo, I got hoodoo, I got things I ain't even tried! And I got friends on the other side…”_ \- The Princess And The Frog

  
  
  


Plotz didn’t expect Ralph to burst into his mansion so early. The guard was out of breath, doubled-over and gasping, cheeks flushed. He looked perfectly petrified.

And his badge was glowing.

“What in the world?” Plotz sat up straight, setting aside the piles of taxes for now. “Ralph, what’s going on? Your badge-”

“Yakko!” Ralph blurted out. He momentarily straightened up to give Plotz a wide-eyed look, and promptly bent over again, wheezing. “There was- there was a kid- uuuhhh…” He wiped his forehead, standing up properly. “A mouse said he was Yakko and the badge started glowin’!”

Plotz waited for him to say “Got’cha!” Was this some absurd idea of a prank?

But Ralph looked so frightened.

“A...mouse,” Plotz repeated slowly.

Ralph nodded. “A mouse! They was crossin’ the road, the mouse said he was Yakko and the _badge-_ ” He held it out, still glowing a deep, bloody red. “It won’t stop!”

It was a well-known fact that their king dabbled in dark magic. It was what won him Warnerstock’s throne in the first place. His dark spells had killed the Warners’ guards near instantaneously. Survivors said the guards had screamed as a mist overcame them and collapsed where they stood. Salazar’s own soldiers had seemed inhumanly strong, with toon-like strength that should have been impossible for humans.

His enemies all met swift ends. Any uprisings were crushed by his magic; no one dared raise their head anymore.

So no, the idea of the guards all having magic badges did not surprise Thaddeus Plotz.

What surprised him was the fact that the spell (some sort of tracing spell, he assumed), must believe this unknown toon was really Yakko, in order to activate.

Unless Salazar had made a mistake when placing the spell.

Unbidden, he glanced over his shoulder, a small part of him fearful that Salazar would know what he was thinking.

King Salazar did not make mistakes, Plotz reminded himself. Which meant…

He looked at Ralph’s frightened face and sighed. “We’d best see the king,” he said, and called for his servants to ready the carriage.

  
  
  
  
  
  


King Salazar had not taken the Warner family’s favourite castle for his own. Their smaller castle, their family residence, was left to crumble in the heart of Acme Falls. Salazar had taken one of the largest palaces; outside Acme Falls, a few hours away by carriage ride. More open space, more beauty and majesty- but not so far that anyone would dare to try and plot against him. The knowledge of his presence was always there.

All the same, Plotz looked around appreciatively at the beautiful gardens as his carriage made its way towards the entrance. The Warner symbols had all been replaced by Salazar’s; there was a large statue of him on either side of the double doors.

Despite the anxiety gnawing at the back of his Plotz’s mind, all seemed peaceful. With any luck, Salazar would say there’d been a mistake and send them on their way. Yakko was dead. Angelina and William were dead. The only thing they had to worry about was Wakko and Dot, but if Scratchansniff had any plans for an invasion, nothing had come to light.

The servants eyed Ralph’s glowing badge curiously, but if anyone knew _why_ it did so, they didn’t comment. There was no fear, or bafflement. Simply curiosity.

Granted, they were all used to Salazar’s spells.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“This had better be good,” Salazar snapped as he strode into the room. They’d been guided to Salazar’s private solar, and they both fell to their knees, bowing their heads as he entered.

Plotz could admit he was sweating as the silence stretched on. Ralph’s badge was still glowing; not as brightly as it had been earlier, but still obvious.

And then Salazar grabbed Ralph by the collar, hauling the guard to his feet, eyes trained to the glowing badge. _“Yakko,”_ his hissed, dark eyes almost feverish. A victorious smirk crossed his face. “Where is the brat?”

_Uh oh._ Plotz winced, getting to his feet. Ralph hadn’t brought the toon with him. Hadn’t he mentioned the boy heading towards the train station?

“Er…” Even Ralph had the good sense to be frightened. “I, ah...I dunno.”

_“What!?”_ Salazar flung Ralph away in disgust; the guard flailed his arms to regain his balance. “You didn’t _bring_ him?”

“Your Majesty,” Plotz spoke up, voice shaking despite his best efforts. “You’re certain it was truly Yakko? The boy is surely dead.”

“No,” Salazar said coldly. “The boy is _missing._ There’s a big difference, you fool.” He paced up and down, ermine cloak swishing with every step; his long face could have been carved from stone. “Gather the guards and search the town.”

“Uh…” Ralph gulped. “He, uh- he was goin’ to the train station.”

There was a brief pause, a deadly silence.

And then Salazar’s clock pendant flashed red; magic burst from him, shattering all the ornaments in the room and shaking the walls.

_“WHAT!?”_

Plotz ducked behind Ralph. This, he sensed, was going to be a long, terrible day.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Salazar finally calmed down (at least somewhat) he grabbed them both tightly by the arms and dragged them to a bookshelf at the back of the room. He released them only to give the bookshelf a sharp tug; it pulled away from the wall, revealing a door carved from steel. When Salazar pressed his hand against it there was another small flash of magic and the door swung open. The staircase beyond was narrow, but short; Plotz could easily make out another door at the end, despite the dark.

“Come on,” Salazar snarled and led the way down. He opened the last door; the room beyond was bigger than Plotz would have expected, all dark stone floors and walls. Bookshelves lined the walls. Jars were filled with potions and other substances that Plotz didn’t recognise. Ralph was shivering, looking around warily; Plotz patted him on the back and they followed the king to the centre of the room.

In the centre of the room, surrounded by candles and charms, was-

“A well, Your Majesty?” Plotz asked.

“Of a sort,” Salazar said with a smirk. He snapped his fingers, and all the candles in the room lit up. “Look in.”

Gulping, Plotz gripped the edge of the well tightly and looked in, and his mouth fell open. It wasn’t water at the bottom; it was a swirling red mass of magic. It shifted and changed shape as he watched; he could see tiny faces and claws. He swore he could dimly hear many voices; sharp, angry voices.

“My god,” Plotz murmured. He stepped away, wiping his damp forehead.

“Fear not, Thaddeus,” Salazar laughed. “They won’t hurt you.” He took a needle from the nearest table and pricked his finger. The drop of blood fell down into the wall, vanishing into the mass. It glowed brighter, the whispers reaching Plotz more clearly.

“Show me the Warners,” Salazar demanded.

A column of light rose from the well to hover in front of them. It shifted into a ball, and the red light was quickly replaced by an image of Princess Dot and Prince Wakko. The image was still red-tinted, and although they were talking, Plotz couldn’t hear a word. They chased each other down a hallway, hurling pies at each other and laughing, jumping on the furniture.

Plotz and Ralph looked to Salazar; he was plainly seething. He pricked his finger again, and as the blood fell he said, “Show me Yakko Warner.”

Nothing happened. The image of Dot and Wakko stayed where it was. 

_“Not enough…”_ the voices whispered.

Gritting his teeth, Salazar grabbed a small knife. Plotz jumped back; Ralph gave a startled shout, but Salazar didn’t even glance at them; he slit open his own hand and watched as the blood flowed into the magic below.

“Show me Yakko Warner,” he demanded again.

_“Not enough…”_ Dot and Wakko vanished. The light shifted up and down, glowing brighter and dimming. _“Not enough...The price…”_

Plotz didn’t know what _price_ these things were talking about, but Salazar clearly did. He paled rapidly, his uncut hand lingering by his clock pendant.

“Not yet,” he said, and Plotz was startled to hear fear in the king’s voice. He’d never even heard the man sound uncertain before, let alone fearful. 

_“The price, the price, the_ price, _”_ the voices said insistently. 

“My lord?” Plotz spoke, but Salazar didn’t seem to hear him. Ralph edged backwards until he was pressed against the wall.

“Very well,” Salazar said. Once more, the room exploded with magic. Every inch of power rose from the well, swirling around the room rapidly. They surrounded Salazar, completely blocking him from sight, swirling faster and faster. The voices were screaming wordlessly, a high-pitched wailing that made Plotz clap his hands over his ears, but it did no good. Ralph let out a frightened cry, covering his eyes.

As swiftly as it started, it was done.

But it was not King Salazar standing before them. It was a skeleton.

Nausea overcame him; he swayed alarmingly, having to grasp Ralph’s arm to stay upright. The guard groaned, looking as ill as Plotz felt. 

The skeleton began to glow; it started at its feet, making its way upward. As the glow overcame it, flesh and clothing returned. In moments, King Salazar stood before them once more- but _changed._ There were dark circles under his eyes, and the light had gone from them; his hair was limp, his skin was waxy. 

His clock pendant was steadily glowing red.

Smiling, Salazar held a hand out. “Show me Yakko Warner,” he said.

This time it worked.

The image before them showed a skinny little toon, the very image of Wakko, but taller and thinner. His ragged clothing was too big for him and he had two little mice on his shoulders. He walked down a train’s corridor, slipped into a small room and flopped onto the seat. The mice scampered off his shoulders, though the taller one stayed perched on his knee.

This time, they couldn’t just see everything; they could _hear_ them, hear every word they said.

_“Narf! I’m sorry, Elo,”_ the tall mouse said. His voice echoed slightly. _“I didn’t mean to talk so loud!”_

_“It’s a talent,”_ the smaller mouse said icily. _“For heaven’s sake, Pinky, a guard could have grabbed us!”_

“Elo?” Salazar chuckled. “Is that what the boy’s calling himself?” He clenched his fist and the image of the toon- of _Yakko-_ vanished. The image changed, showing the outside of the train as it hurried along; they could see the front of the train, the number: _211299._ And then that too vanished, leaving them staring at empty air. The king’s smile dropped. “He’ll be heading for Burbank.”

Plotz nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. If he opened his mouth he’d surely be sick.

“He’ll be going to his siblings,” Salazar continued, voice quiet and cold. “To his godfather. To all those traitors.” His expression darkened; with his new waxy skin and dead eyes, he looked ill. “He’ll be coming for my crown.”

Plotz swallowed heavily and forced himself to speak. “H-he wouldn’t da-dare, Your M-Majesty,” he stammered.

Salazar ignored him.

“He’ll be coming for my crown,” he said, apparently to himself. He tapped his pendant. “Well, I can’t be having that.” His dead eyes zeroed in on Plotz and Ralph, and he smiled. “Well, now,” he said. “I have a very important mission for you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t a simple mission, straightforward as it may sound on paper. Seize Yakko, don’t let him reach Burbank. Bring him to Salazar, dead or alive.

“But he’s already on a train!” Ralph protested.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Salazar laughed. “After all, I have some new tricks up my sleeve.” The reminder turned Ralph silent again.

_What was that?_ Plotz wondered. _What was the price? What did they take?_

Salazar looked at him without any expression. He snapped his fingers and a beautiful ruby ring appeared in between them, floating in the air, slowly rotating. 

“Take it, Thaddeus,” he ordered, and Plotz obeyed, slipping it onto his finger. It stung, like a sharp pinch.

“Use it when you wish to speak to me,” Salazar said. “As soon as you have the boy, alert me. Dead or alive, tell me straight away.” He gestured to the ring almost lazily. “Toons are hard to catch; it will allow you to cast a few spells. Do whatever is necessary to grab the boy.”

“Yes, sire,” Plotz said, lowering his eyes. Ralph shifted uneasily.

The king smiled at them. “Hurry along, boys,” he said. “You have a train to stop.”

Magic swirled around them, the red lights blinding. Plotz closed his eyes against it; Ralph clutched him tightly, trying to cringe away.

In seconds, they were gone.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The first thing Plotz noticed was the chilly breeze, the sound of birds chirping. He opened his eyes; they were no longer in the king’s secret room, they were standing in the snow, among the tree line. Train tracks were in front of them, and there wasn’t another soul around.

“Duh, now what?” Ralph asked, scratching his nose.

Plotz looked at the train tracks and sighed.

“Now we wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chase begins!


	6. Train Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plotz and Ralph make their move, but Elo, Brain and Pinky have some tricks up their sleeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which our trio is underestimated 😉

_“Who cares about the stuff we lack? We're on our way, and we won't be back.”_ \- Wakko’s Wish

  
  
  


The train chugged along and all was peaceful in their little carriage. Brain finished filling out their travelling papers, Pinky hummed to himself, perched on the window ledge and watching the passing scenery. Elo, who had been talking a mile a minute at first, only got quieter and quieter the further away they got from Acme Falls.

It was odd, Brain thought. Despite their short acquaintance, it was clear that silence didn’t suit the boy.

He was wondering if he ought to try and engage Elo in conversation, when he actually looked at the little toon; he was slouching terribly, fiddling with his pendant, frowning out the window.

“Elo, do sit up straight,” Brain sighed. “And don’t fiddle about so much. Remember, you’re a prince.”

Elo looked at him, unimpressed. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “And how do you know what princes do? Maybe they slouch.”

“I make it my business to know.” Brain tapped him with his pen. “Sit up straight.”

Scowling, Elo did so. The silence dragged on. And on and on. And on some more. Pinky frowned at Brain and pointed at Elo, tapping his foot.

_Message received, Pinky,_ Brain thought. He set the paperwork aside. “Listen, Elo, I feel we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“Yeah, me too,” Elo said. He was still staring out the window. “But thanks for the apology.”

“You’re wel- _wait._ I never apologised.”

Elo shrugged, and Brain could see the trace of a smile on his face. “Well, you ought to.”

“He’s got ya, Brain,” Pinky laughed. Brain could feel a vein on his forehead beginning to twitch. This cheeky little…

Taking a deep breath, he stood, intent on keeping his dignity. “Regardless, if we’re going to work together, we should at least be cordial, no?” He held his hand out. “What say you?”

He couldn’t quite read the look on Elo’s face; it was disconcerting. But the lad shook his hand all the same (so vigorously that Brain was jerked up and down), and Pinky looked hopeful.

This time the silence was a lot less awkward, much more comfortable. 

And then Elo spoke up.

“Are you gonna miss it?” he asked.

“Miss what?” Pinky tilted his head.

“Warnerstock,” Elo said. He was fiddling with the pendant again. “Acme Falls.”

“Hm…” Pinky tapped his chin. “I think so. It wasn’t nice anymore, but it used to be.” He jumped down from the ledge and landed on Elo’s lap, looking up at the boy earnestly. “I lived there all my life,” Pinky added. “I’ll miss it.”

And Brain understood what Pinky was trying to say; that he missed what Acme Falls _used_ to be more than he’d miss Acme Falls as it was _now._ But that his friend would miss it all the same. Brain didn’t share the sentiment, but he understood it.

Elo looked to Brain. “What about you?” he asked.

“No,” Brain said, shaking his head. 

There was a little crease in Elo’s forehead as he frowned. “But- but it was your _home,_ ” he said, sounding lost.

“It was a place that I lived,” Brain said. He straightened the travelling papers and kept them on the seat next to him. “I wouldn’t call it a home.”

The crease in Elo’s forehead deepened as he thought it over. “Then is Burbank going to be your home?”

Brain folded his arms, sighing. “Why the fascination with homes?” he huffed, rolling his eyes- and immediately wanted to bite his own tongue when Elo’s expression darkened. Pinky cringed, eyeing them both warily.

_Orphan,_ Brain reminded himself. _Don’t be so foolish._

“Brain,” Pinky said. “Don’t-”

“Well, for one thing it’s something _normal_ people want,” Elo snapped. He lifted Pinky and deposited him next to Brain, quickly standing up. “And it’s where you- you- oh, _forget it,_ what would you know?”

“Elo,” Brain began, but Elo wasn’t having it.

“You’re a prize idiot,” Elo said, jerking the door open. “You should change your name to _Braindead.”_ And he stormed away, slamming the door so heavily that the carriage shook.

Pinky gulped. “Egad, Brain, he was really angry.” He looked reproachful, but sounded nervous.

Brain was unaccustomed to shame, but he felt it now.

“I’ll give him some time to cool down,” he said. “And then I shall have to apologise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Finally, the train approached. Plotz watched carefully for the number, and sure enough it was the right one.

“What’cha gonna do?” Ralph asked.

For a moment, Plotz had to admit that he had no idea. Magic ring aside, how did one stop a train?

But as it hurried past, inspiration struck.

He thrust his hand out, aiming further down the tracks. Light shot from the ring, soaring over the train and up into the sky; it changed into lightning and shot back down, straight into a large tree. The tree’s trunk burst into flames, and the tree collapsed sideways, straight onto the tracks.

There was an almighty screeching noise as the driver struggled to stop in time. The train skid to a hasty halt, its whistle blaring, its wheels screeching against the tracks. The carriages jerked side to side, and Plotz could hear startled shouts.

It was a close call, but the train did not crash. However, it was most certainly stuck.

“Come on,” Plotz ordered; he hurried towards the train, gesturing for Ralph to follow.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The train suddenly gave a tremendous jerk; its whistle echoed in Brain’s ears, he and Pinky were sent flying off their seats and onto the floor, where they both rolled against the seat opposite. 

“What in the world was that?” Brain cried, struggling to his feet. He could hear other passengers complaining, and a baby crying. He pulled open the door, stepping out into the corridor, Pinky at his heels.

One of the ticket collector’s hurried down the hall, brushing past the complaining passengers, ignoring their questions. He opened the door to the next carriage, and came face to face with another collector, a young human woman.

“A tree is blocking the tracks,” she announced. “We’ll have to wait until it’s cleared.”

Annoyed groans rose up from the crowd; the baby cried louder. Brain knew very well that it could take a long time to clear the track. Hopefully it was just a small tree. Hopefully some toons were on hand to move it. Then again, knowing their luck, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was an oak tree that had smashed the tracks to smithereens, and there would only be humans around.

He ran a hand down his forehead, resisting the urge to join the groans and complaints.

Pinky gave a sharp gasp. _“Elo!”_ he cried, and ran down the corridor, in the direction the boy had taken. “Brain, he might be hurt!” He disappeared into the next car, and Brain hurried after him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The baggage car may have been freezing, but it was quiet, and that was what Elo needed. He’d sat on a pile of suitcases, steaming, muttering to himself and cursing Brain’s name.

But as the moments passed, he slowly calmed down. He was left feeling drained. Sadder than he’d expected to feel.

_“Why the fascination with homes?”_

_Stupid mouse,_ Elo thought, without any real heat behind it. For all that Brain was meant to be smart, he wasn’t exactly good at conversation.

He was about to go back, if only to assure Pinky that he wasn’t upset anymore, when the carriage suddenly jerked and he toppled off the cases. He had to roll out of the way before the pile could collapse on him and as the carriage steadied itself he lay on the floor, eyes wide, nails digging into the ground. 

_Close one,_ he thought. He stood, dusting himself down. When he opened the door he could dimly hear people complaining, which only got louder as he made his way down the corridor. From the sounds of it, there was a tree blocking the tracks. One more thing to slow them down, just great. Still, it was just a tree. It could be worse, he knew. They’d be going forward again in no time.

“Elo!”

He paused, ears twitching at the sound of his name. And then it came again, two voices now: “Elo!”

Smiling despite himself, Elo ran down the corridor. “Pinky!” he called. “Brain!” He reached the door just as the two mice forced it open. For a moment, the three of them only stood there, staring at each other before Elo, grinning, knelt down.

Pinky wasted no time in jumping onto his lap. He quickly crawled up Elo to perch on his shoulder and gave him a rather dramatic and wet kiss on the cheek. Brain was much quieter; he patted Elo on the knee and said, “Well, I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

“That makes two of us,” Elo said. He held his hand out, and Brain climbed on. Elo put Brain on his shoulder and stood, heading back to their cabin. 

Brain cleared his throat. “Elo,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “I feel I should-”

“Oh _nuts!_ ” Elo cried, jerking to a stop. Oh no way, there was _no way._ He swiftly ducked down and kept low as he peered out the window. 

“What is it?” Brain asked sharply, but when he saw who Elo saw he sucked in a deep breath and Pinky cried, “Narf!”

The big guard from Acme Falls was marching towards the train, and with him was-

“Baron Plotz!” Pinky cried, tugging on his ears.

“I’m dead,” Elo said. “I’m so dead.”

Brain looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Out with it,” he said. “What did you do?”

Elo gulped. “I, uuuhhh- I was maybe meant to go work for him when I left the orphanage?” he said sheepishly. “But…”

“But you came and found us instead,” Brain finished. “Perfect. That’s just perfect.” He looked back down the corridor. “To the baggage car?” he suggested.

“To the baggage car,” Elo agreed, and hurried back the way he came.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Something about this didn’t sit right with Brain. He knew Plotz’s pride would take a knock at the idea of a world-be servant running away...But would he really chase after the boy, let alone in person? And how did Plotz know where Elo was? How did he catch up so quickly? Brain hadn’t seen any horses or carriages. He couldn’t have caught up so fast on foot.

Bringing Ralph, he could somewhat understand. He was a guard after all. But why come along himself?

Were they even looking for Elo? Or were they here for someone else? Even then, it didn’t make sense; Plotz was a _tax-collector._ He didn’t arrest people. He sent the guards to do that. If someone was evading their taxes on this train, Plotz wouldn’t trouble himself to follow, not when he had people to do it for him.

_This isn’t right,_ he thought, but he couldn’t puzzle it out. They reached the baggage car and Elo ducked behind a crate of bags and cases, tucked up against the corner, hidden in the shadows.

“We’ll have to wait them out,” Brain sighed. 

It was the best course of action- best not to risk that Plotz and Ralph were _actually_ here to come after Elo- but a cold, damp and dark baggage car certainly wasn’t the most comfortable place to wait. He wished they could have grabbed their own luggage before hiding. He didn’t like leaving their papers, or the music box, behind where he couldn’t see them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Anyone that recognised Plotz cringed back at his approach.

“Baron Plotz!” A maid with a serving cart gave a shaky curtsy. Plotz smiled, barely sparing her a glance, looking all around him. Most of the passengers were humans, but he could see a few toons- and none of them were Yakko.

“We’re looking for a tax evader,” Plotz said. “We shouldn’t take too long.”

“I- yes, sir.” The girl backed away. “Shall I call some of the guards to assist?”

“No need to trouble yourself, dear,” Plotz said. Ralph walked in step with him, peering into each carriage they passed. No sign of Yakko. They passed full carriages, empty carriages, some that only had one or two passengers, one with a sleeping old rabbit-toon with staringly bright orange fur.

Truth be told, Plotz wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when they found the lad. He remembered Yakko always getting into mischief, the ring-leader of the siblings; he remembered Yakko running so fast he was a blur, jumping into high places, laughing as the adults yelled at him. He’d been nearly impossible to catch.

And he’d somehow hidden himself for five years. He wasn’t nine anymore. At fourteen, who knew what tricks Yakko had up his sleeve?

As they walked and Plotz pondered, a thought struck him- a name. Elo. What the mouse had called Yakko in the vision.

Wasn’t a servant named Elo supposed to arrive at his mansion yesterday? He tried to brush the thought away, because what were the odds, truly? Still, it nagged at him. 

If Elo and Yakko were one in the same, Plotz had to wonder if he’d have made the connection by himself.

He didn’t like to dwell on the possible consequences if he hadn’t.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Up at the front of the train, the conductor and driver watched as five toons- passengers who had volunteered their services- began to try and move the tree. They’d managed to put out the fire on the trunk, lest it spread.

Now they had the real obstacle to deal with. Would five toons be enough to get them going again?

  
  
  
  
  
  


When the door creaked open, Elo held his breath. Pinky clung to his ear and Brain was still as a statue. Elo chanced a glance around the crate- sure enough, it was Plotz and Ralph.

They walked slowly, clearly in no hurry. Plotz tapped his finger against his thigh as he walked; he was wearing a big ruby ring. _That could earn enough to feed the orphanage for months,_ Elo thought bitterly. He ducked back behind the crate, willing them to hurry along.

Brain patted him on the shoulder; it was probably meant to be reassuring, but it felt rather like being jabbed. Still, he appreciated it.

They all kept frozen and quiet as Ralph prodded at bags and looked into corners. Plotz tapped his thigh more insistently, pacing up and down.

“Let’s go,” Plotz said; he sounded fed up. “We’ll start again. We’ll comb this whole train until we find him.”

“Right, boss,” Ralph said. Elo held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as they passed him. As the door began to shut, he sighed in relief.

And then the door crashed back open, and a rough hand lifted him into the air by the ears.

“Got ‘em!” Ralph cheered.

Plotz stepped forward; he was smiling, almost looking friendly. “Elo, isn’t it?” he asked with false sweetness. “Charmed to make your acquaintance.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Pinky took it all in quickly: Ralph was holding Elo by the ears. Plotz was smiling at them, a mean gleam in his eyes. Elo was kicking and swinging his arms, shouting at Ralph to put him down. Ralph held a sack in his free hand.

_You’re not gonna put us in there,_ he thought. He jumped off Elo’s head, straight at Ralph; he landed on the guard’s hand and bit down as hard as he could.

Ralph gave a startled wail; he waved his arm around, shrieking “Get ‘em off, get ‘em off!” but at least he dropped Elo and Brain. Only when Elo scrambled up and ran did Pinky let go and race after them.

They tried to dodge past Plotz, but the tax collector flung his hand out, the one with the ring, and it began to glow. A flash of light knocked them all backwards, and when they got to their feet, Plotz and Ralph were blocking the door. Ralph pulled a big net from his hammerspace.

Pinky’s first thought was that they were stuck. He didn’t see how they could get past them both.

But then Elo scooped him up off the ground, holding tight to him and Brain, and he ran out the back door and jumped off the back of the train.

“Where are we going?” Pinky asked. Elo laughed, shaking his head.

“Dunno,” he said. “But we’re gonna tire them out.”

He expected Brain to yell, but his friend only looked curious. “The idea has merit,” he said slowly. “If we can slow them down and get back on the train…”

“And if they move that tree, we’ll be okay,” Elo finished with a bright smile. “Let’s do this!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Truth be told, Brain thought this was madness. Here they were, standing in the snow, facing off against Plotz and Ralph. Ralph, with his toon powers. Plotz, with what appeared to be a brand new _magic ring._

_We’re insane,_ Brain thought, resigned. Plotz shot another beam of light at them, which Elo cartwheeled away from. Ralph chased them with the net; Elo ran circles around him, but Ralph was faster than Brain would have given him credit for. As Ralph and Plotz chased them, inspiration struck.

“We can trip them!” Brain had to lean up and shout for Elo and Pinky to hear him properly.

“Good idea,” Elo said, and Brain and Pinky jumped down to the ground. They linked their tails together as Ralph ran at them, and stretched them out- and it worked. Ralph tripped over their tails, falling face-first into the snow, and the mice ran to catch up to Elo. Plotz skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over Ralph. His ring glowed more brightly.

“You can’t run forever!” Plotz shouted. A wave of snow crashed down on them, which they barely dodged. 

“Watch me!” Elo called back with a laugh.

There was a whistle and the train began to slowly move.

“Uh oh,” Pinky said. Elo abruptly turned for the train, Ralph and Plotz hot on their heels.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As he ran for the train, Elo felt like he’d suddenly been hit on the head. As the train began to pull away, he felt a wave of panic and terror that seemed extreme even for the current situation.

_Holding tight to someone’s hand, struggling to keep up, screams echoing in his ears. “Don’t let go!”_

He felt sick, running as fast as he could. Pinky and Brain jumped from his shoulders onto the back of the train, sitting on the railings, both of them shouting for him to hurry. Pinky held his tiny hand out, as if he really thought he could pull Elo on board.

All the same, Elo reached out.

And a wave of magic knocked him to the ground.

_“ELO!”_

His ears were ringing with barely-remembered screams, he swore he felt a hand be sharply tugged from his and Plotz stood over him, seething.

“You’re a tricky little thing,” he snarled. Ralph came up behind him, net in hand.

It was the oddest thing. He should have been terrified. He felt short of breath, his chest heaving; he felt dangerously close to vomiting, or even passing out. But as he stared at Plotz and Ralph, as Pinky and Brain screamed for him, Elo felt calm.

As his two new, odd little friends jumped off the train to come back for him, Elo felt that he knew exactly what to do.

He looked at Plotz and gave his best, sheepish smile. “Okay, okay,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. Snow stuck to his fur, and he held his hands behind his back, making a show of sheepishly pushing his foot through the snow. “You caught me.” He looked at them imploringly. “But, ya know, if this is about taxes, I really don’t have any money. I'm flat broke.”

“ELO!” Brain shouted. “Run!”

He didn’t. He stayed smiling.

“But hey, we had a good run, right?” He winked at Ralph. “You deserve a prize!”

_Please, oh please, let this work._

He clenched his fists, reaching for his hammerspace, and he grinned all the more when he felt it work. Pinky gave a startled cry and Brain swore loudly. Ralph looked bewildered, Plotz suspicious. 

“D’you like flowers?” Elo asked.

He didn’t wait for an answer. He chucked the bouquet of dynamite at them and ran.

He giggled hysterically to himself when they screamed. He scooped up Pinky and Brain as he ran; he glanced back to see Plotz throw the dynamite at Ralph, and Ralph threw it right back. Screaming, Plotz flung the dynamite towards the tree; it exploded mid-air. No one was hurt, but Plotz was clutching his heart and gasping. Ralph dropped his net, mouth hanging open.

Elo turned away and kept running for the train.

_“Take my hand!” someone cried. “Hold onto my hand!”_

“Your powers!” Brain snapped, tugging on his fur. “Quickly, _jump!_ ”

_I can’t!_ Elo wanted to argue. He’d never managed a toon-jump before, not once- but hadn’t he just summoned a bouquet of dynamite? Hadn’t he just held his own against Baron Plotz and Ralph?

Gritting his teeth, eyes stinging for reasons he couldn’t explain, Elo focussed and _jumped._

He launched into the air, inhumanly high, inhumanly fast. Pinky cheered, Brain clung to him for dear life and Elo just couldn’t believe it was working. 

They landed on the roof of the train, and Elo lay flat, winded, hands over his head, as another beam of magic soared over them. But they couldn’t lie here forever and hope for the best. He scrambled for the edge, jumping down onto the back of the train. Another beam shot at them, barely missing, and he screamed, ducking down. He wanted to be brave and he wanted to hide and wait for someone to fix this, for someone to rescue them. 

Pinky yelped, “Hurry, hurry!” The door still hung open and he flung himself inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

Elo leaned against the door, heart pounding, and slid down to the floor.

“What- what was that?” he asked. Before either mouse could answer, there was an explosion outside and Elo braced himself for the train to jerk again, for Plotz and Ralph to grab him. Pinky held his ear tightly and Elo’s legs seemed to have turned to jelly, so it was up to Brain to peer out the tiny window on the door.

“Ah,” he said flatly. “It appears our lovely Baron tried to blow the train up.”

_“Tried?”_ Elo asked, still on the floor. He felt unaccountably sleepy.

“Tried,” Brain repeated. “He missed. The tracks behind us, however, are quite destroyed. The train after us will certainly have some trouble.”

The whole situation was completely absurd, Elo thought. Absolutely dramatic. It felt like one of the stories in his book. Maybe that was why he burst out laughing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“DAMN IT!”_ Plotz threw his hat into the snow while Ralph gaped after the train, wincing as it turned the corner and vanished from sight.

“What do we do?” Ralph asked. 

“We’ll have to follow them,” Plotz snapped. He tugged on Ralph’s sleeve, pulling him forward. He picked up his hat, rubbed his ring and after a moment a red-tinted image of King Salazar appeared above his hand.

“Well?” Salazar’s eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”

“Still on the blasted train,” Plotz admitted. “Sire, do you know where the nearest town is from here?”

Salazar frowned and waved his hand, looking at something off to his left. “It’s a thirty minute walk away,” he said. “Go west. You’ll be able to get horses and carriages.” He frowned at them. “Take a bus, a boat, hire a blasted dragon for all I care- but _catch that train._ ” He vanished from sight.

A thirty minute walk through heavy levels of snow. Plotz tried to tell himself it could be worse. After all, he could have been foolish enough to admit they’d actually _had_ Yakko. He’d prefer to keep his head on his shoulders.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Back in Acme Falls, the head housekeeper frowned as a messenger from the king finished his explanation. Baron von Plotz had been called away on a very important, top secret mission. It was unknown when he’d return.

Well, there wasn’t much they could do beyond keep the house in tip-top shape as always.

Sighing, she summoned the rest of the staff and repeated what the messenger had told her. As she dismissed them, she called back Minerva. The beautiful mink, her blonde hair in a bun, lingered in the doorway.

“Did that new boy ever arrive?” the housekeeper asked.

Minerva shook her head. “No sign of him,” she said. Always defiant, she added, “He’s only fourteen, I _said_ someone should have gone to escort him. He could have gotten lost, or hurt-”

“Or the brat decided not to show,” the housekeeper scoffed. She waved Minerva away. “For his own sake, he’d better not show up now, or he’s in for a world of trouble.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Little did she know the trouble Elo had already faced that day.

He yawned as he staggered back to their carriage. As soon as they got there, he curled up on the seat, pulling his coat over him like a blanket. Pinky lay down by his head, spread out like a little starfish, while Brain lingered by his feet. The smaller mouse sat by their travel papers.

Yawning heavily, Elo closed his eyes.

“That was...Very impressive, Elo,” Brain said quietly. “Commendable work.”

“Thanks,” Elo said, pulling his coat up to his chin. He was already drifting off when Brain took a deep breath and said, “I feel I should apologise for earlier. I spoke without thinking, and I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“‘S all good,” Elo murmured. Another yawn and he mumbled, “You’re not braindead,” and within moments he was fast asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“That,” Brain said, “Was far too dangerous. We shall have to plan ahead. They’ll likely follow us- Plotz in particular was far too angry to simply leave it be. What do you think, Pinky?” Silence. “Pinky?”

A snore was his only answer.

Pinky lay on his back, snoring loudly. His tail occasionally twitched as he dreamed. Elo was curled up small, clinging tightly to his coat with one hand and his pendant with the other.

Perhaps they had the right idea.

Smiling, though he’d deny it, Brain lay down and joined his companions in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Wakko and Dot; Elo learns to be a prince and tries to practice with his powers


	7. Learn To Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakko and Dot make a difficult choice. Elo learns to be a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I listened to for this chapter are:  
> Learn To Do It, from Anastasia  
> The Model of A Cartoon Individual, from Animaniacs  
> You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home, by Miley Cyrus  
> I Remember, from Little Mermaid 3

_“I simply knew it- suddenly I feel like someone new!”_ \- Anastasia 

  
  
  


Sometimes, Dot felt guilty. She’d play with Wakko, or attend a party, a play or the ballet, and she’d be _happy-_ but then the bubble would burst, and she’d be left feeling swamped with guilt, looking around for parents that were long gone, for a brother she missed like a limb.

A lot of people thought she didn’t remember much about the night Warnerstock was invaded. Fair, she supposed, as she’d only been five. But she remembered. She remembered everything. 

She remembered racing after Yakko to his room. She remembered escaping through a tunnel in the wall. She remembered a stranger holding her as Scratchy tried to pull Yakko onto the train with them. She remembered screaming for Scratchy, for _anyone_ to help her brother, to put him back by her side where he belonged, and then they’d all be safe.

She remembered Yakko’s scream as he fell. She didn’t want to, but she did.

She thought she remembered Yakko better than she remembered their parents, and that made her feel guilty too. She missed them, of course she did, but it had _always_ been her, Wakko and Yakko; their trio versus everyone else, always together, _always, always, always._

Until they weren’t.

She could barely remember William and Angelina’s voices, but she remembered Yakko’s loud and clear. She remembered him tapping her on the nose, and the nicknames he had for her; _“Baby sis,” “Sister-sib,” “Sister-sibling,” “Sister-mine.”_ She remembered laughing as he carried her on his shoulders, running around the gardens. She remembered pranking the cooks and maids. She remembered the three of them sleeping in Yakko’s bed, clinging to each other as it stormed outside.

Dot tried to push it all away, but it was one of _those_ days. Hello Nurse announced that another boy had arrived, claiming to be Yakko. And despite five years of disappointment and anger, Dot felt her hopes raise a little all the same. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, when Nurse escorted this boy in, it would be Yakko. They’d take one look at him and _know,_ and then things would be _right_ again. They’d be the Warner brothers and the Warner sister, not the Warner-brother-and-sister.

Wakko met her at the door to the private dining room. It was routine by this point: Scratchy would always arrive first, fussing over the little details of the room, the seats and snacks laid out, making sure nothing was out of place. Dot and Wakko would arrive together, and they’d wait for Scratchy to open the door and usher them in. Then he’d pull the yellow chord by his chair, which would ring a bell to let Hello Nurse know they were ready.

Wakko was nibbling on a chocolate bar; he looked as nervous as Dot felt. He wasn’t even eating properly, not really. Just nibbling and licking at the chocolate, more for something to do, Dot supposed. She knew from experience that if Wakko was truly hungry, that chocolate bar would be gone in five second flat, wrapper and all.

“Kidses?” The door opened and Scratchy gave them a small, sort-of-reassuring smile. “Are you ready?”

_No,_ Dot thought. She wasn’t ready to be disappointed again. She wasn’t ready to watch Wakko withdraw into himself and get quiet for days on end. She wasn’t ready for them to fall into the same bed tonight and try not to cry, and ultimately fail. 

She wasn’t ready for the growing realisation that her big brother may never come home.

But she was Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third. She was Dot Warner, and she wouldn’t let anyone knock her down for long.

Dot held her head high, took Wakko’s hand, and led the way in.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Wakko hated this. He slouched in his seat, only half-listening to the toon in front of them. Scratchy looked somewhat hopeful, but Wakko took one look at the guy and wanted to snap for him to leave.

It wasn’t Yakko.

He had the same inky-black fur, but his ears were too straight; there was a blue gleam to his eyes when they caught the light. His nose was the wrong shade of red, and he was so _formal._ He stood perfectly straight, hands clasped behind his back and listing facts about their family and ancestry, the usual stuff you’d find in a history book, or from general common knowledge.

_Yakko wouldn’t be formal,_ Wakko thought, looking away, towards the window. Maybe he’d be a bit shy after five years, worried they wouldn’t recognise him, or believe him. But he wouldn’t bow and call them “My lord, my lady.” He wouldn’t call Scratchy by his full title. 

_And,_ Wakko thought with a faint smile. _He’d go ga-ga for Nurse._ She had Wakko and Yakko to thank for that nickname; a nickname that had firmly stuck. Everyone called her Hello Nurse now. But this guy? He’d given Nurse a gracious smile and barely looked at her again.

Wakko’s patience abruptly vanished.

“And every summer-”

“Mum would take us for a picnic on the beach,” Wakko interrupted, a bit louder than he’d meant to, but he didn’t regret it. He could see the crushing disappointment in Dot’s eyes, the struggle to hold her temper. 

He was tired of being disappointed. He was tired of watching Dot get hurt.

_I want Yakko!_ he wanted to scream. _I want my brother back!_

The fake Yakko looked startled. Hello Nurse stood, knowing what was coming. Scratchy sighed heavily, rubbing at his bald head.

Wakko folded his arms, slouching further, scowling. He clutched his pendant and his fingers itched to summon a mallet and hit the guy right out the window. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Wakko asked, turning away again. “Get out.”

“Prince Wakko-”

_“Go. Away.”_

“You have to leave, dear,” Hello Nurse said gently, taking the fake Yakko by the arm. “Come along now.” She led him back to the door and escorted him out.

As soon as the door closed, Dot grabbed a pillow, buried her face in it and screamed for all she was worth. Wakko scooted closer and pulled her into his arms, letting her scream until her voice cracked and deserted her. Scratchy watched them sadly, at a loss for words the way he usually was after this sort of meeting.

“I’m sorry,” Nurse said, coming back in. “I really thought he was…” She trailed off sadly. “But I promise, darlings, I won’t be fooled next time. I’ll think of the hardest questions I can, and-”

“No,” Wakko said.

“Wakko, darling?”

“No,” Wakko repeated, shaking his head. His eyes stung and Dot’s shoulders began to heave. “I’m _tired,_ ” he said, hating how his voice broke.

“Oh, kidses…” Scratchy came and hugged them tightly, but for once it didn’t make Wakko feel any better.

It was the wrong person hugging them.

It should have been Mum and Dad. It should have been Yakko.

“No more,” Dot said, raising her face from the pillow. Her fur was ruffled, her cheeks pink. Tears fell which she quickly wiped away, sniffling. “I’m done,” she said. “I don’t...I can’t…”

Wakko didn’t often have the right words, but he did now. He and Dot had had so many whispered, late night conversations about this. 

“We don’t want to see anyone else who says they’re Yakko,” he said. He couldn’t quite look at Scratchy or Nurse as he said it, terrified he’d see disappointment there, or outrage.

But Scratchy gave another deep, heaving sigh and said, “It’s too much.” He rubbed their backs gently and craned his neck to look at Nurse. “No more,” he said. “It’s enough.”

Wakko squeezed his eyes shut. His throat burned and the guilt was too much. He felt like he was being torn apart.

_I’m sorry, Yakko,_ he thought. And he thought, louder and more firmly, as if Yakko could hear him; _I love you._

  
  
  
  
  
  


The town their train stopped in was further south than Acme Falls. There was no snow here; it was bright and sunny, but still freezing with a stiff breeze. The people here looked worn down too, but not as miserable as they had in Acme Falls.

It was the last stop and after such a long (and eventful) train ride, they ducked into the gents to freshen up. Elo pulled on his spare shirt, a deep blue one, as patched and frayed as his yellow one, but at least it was clean. He put his hat and scarf back on, smoothing the creases in his coat with his hands. 

He peered in the cracked mirror, tilting his head. He didn’t look like a prince, he knew that. He’d be lucky if the Warners didn’t laugh him out of the room.

He was about to ask about lunch when, as if on cue, his and Pinky’s stomachs rumbled. Pinky giggled at the noise, patting his own stomach. Brain rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look as grumpy as Elo would have expected.

“Lunch time,” Brain said, and Elo and Pinky followed in his wake, out of the train station and down the street in search of a cafe.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Just like in Acme Falls, most of the shops and cafes had been shut down. They had to walk for quite a while, retracing their steps and checking down side-streets before they found a cafe. It was tiny and cramped with dirty floorboards. Brain gave it one disdainful glance and gestured for Pinky and Elo to take one of the rickety tables outside instead.

It didn’t take long to order; all they’d had on the train was a small muffin each. They couldn’t afford much, and Brain muttered that he was sure the food would be unsanitary, but when their sandwiches and drinks arrived they looked good enough to Elo.

Happily, he gulped down his coffee. Brain’s eyebrows (such as they were) rose.

“Are you old enough for coffee?” he asked, half-mocking, half-serious.

“Better than tea,” Elo said with a shrug. Brain didn’t argue further, though he looked faintly surprised about something. For a moment, Elo thought he was going to say something, but instead the little mouse pulled out his battered wallet and started counting out their funds, eyes narrowed.

“Should be enough,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. He finished the last of his food and jumped down off the table. “Wait here, you two. I’ve further purchases to make.”

“Purchases?” Elo leaned his cheek against his hand, watching Brain doubtfully. Pinky didn’t notice, too engrossed in his cheese sandwiches. 

“Purchases,” Brain confirmed. “I’ll be right back.”

Elo watched him go, curious, but once Brain was out of sight he turned back to the food. The sandwiches were simple, but they were tasty- and more importantly, they were _filling,_ and the coffee warmed him up. He made sure to keep it out of Pinky’s reach though. Surely the last thing they needed was a hyper Pinky. The thought simultaneously amused and terrified him.

Watching people pass, it was hard to believe what had happened on the train. It seemed so _calm_ here. An aura of sadness blanketed everything; an aura of defeat. But there was no chaos, no weird magic lights and no one chasing them. Hardly anyone even gave them a second glance. With the sun shining, weak though it was, and the bird chirping, the events of the train felt like a bizarre dream.

He couldn’t understand just why Plotz had been so angry. He could understand being angry about a runaway servant, but Plotz had seemed almost _desperate._ Before, Elo had only hated the _idea_ of the guy, but he sure hated him now.

He couldn’t quite shake the sense that he was missing something. For a start, how had Plotz caught up so fast? Elo hadn’t seen any form of transport. Then again, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the scenery. He was just a _little_ distracted by trying not to get blown up by magic spells.

Well, dwelling on it wasn’t going to help anything. Elo pulled his book of fairytales from his bag and began to read.

They weren’t waiting too long on Brain. He came back, pushing a plain brown bag into his hammerspace and reading his map as he walked along. He accepted Elo’s help back onto the table.

“Unfortunately,” he said. “Transport around here is convoluted and next to non-existent. We need to take a boat to Burbank, but the docks here are only for fishing boats, few as there are. Stowing away is always an option, but it seems none of the boats are going near Burbank- and frankly, I’d rather avoid the risk of being arrested, wouldn’t you? I’ve asked around, and it seems we shall have to walk to the next town and take a bus from there.”

“Great,” Elo said flatly.

“It’s not ideal,” Brain acknowledged. “But it will give us plenty of time to get to work. Best set out now.”

_Work?_ Elo wondered. He put his book away and they set off.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elo had to admit, it was plain _weird_ to not have snow around. Acme Falls always had thick snow in winter. The snow was practically non-stop, and sunny days were rare. As they walked through the town, there was only some frost, and that was only where the shadows were thickest.

Winter without snowmen or snow angels, or snowball fights sounded like a wasted winter to him.

The conversation was idle as they walked along. It wasn’t until they were actually outside the town, crossing a small bridge, that Brain elaborated on what _work_ meant.

“We shall have to go over your knowledge of the Warners,” he said. “The siblings were very close- joined at the hip, really. And Heloise Nerz is protective of Wakko and Dot, that much is well known. She won’t just let us waltz in, it will take convincing.”

Elo froze mid-step. “Heh…” He shook his head, made a show of clearing out his ear. “Come again? ‘Cause, Brain, I swear you just said I’ll have to _convince_ them?”

Brain had the grace to blush. “Well, yes-”

“I thought we were just going to see the prince and princess!” Elo threw his hands in the air. A short burst of steam came from his ears as he struggled for calm. Convince them? _Convince them?_ Did they really expect him to _lie_ to those kids?

No. Absolutely not.

“Show up? Duh.” Elo paced up and down, ticking his points off on his fingers as he did. “Look nice? As much as I can, yeah. But you seriously expect me to lie to them!?”

“You don’t know it’s a lie,” Brain pointed out. “It could be true.”

“And who the heck is Heloise?” Elo demanded. “An aunt? A cousin? Someone else I’ll be _lying_ to?”

“She is their physician and one of their guardians,” Brain said with forced calm. 

“The princes called her Hello Nurse!” Pinky cut in. His smile wavered anxiously as he looked between Elo and Brain. It was an odd enough comment to distract Elo.

“Hello Nurse?” Elo frowned, rubbing at his forehead. Where had he heard that before? “Why’d they call her that?”

Pinky smiled dreamily, little hearts floating around his head. “Because she’s pretty,” he sighed happily.

“Good to know,” Elo said. He marched back towards the bridge. “But there’s one big flaw in your plan: _I’m not prince material._ ” He hauled himself up onto the railing and glared at his reflection in the water. A prince? Him? Not a hope. The Warners would never believe it. Elo didn’t even know his own name, how could he ever act like a prince? 

His fingers twitched and tapped against the railing. Hello Nurse...He knew that name from somewhere, didn’t he? Or maybe he was just desperate to convince himself. He was just a skinny little nobody with no past and no future. He wasn’t some all-important heir to the throne. He wasn’t Yakko Warner.

Was his family even looking for him? Were they alive?

He’d be better off going back the way he came. If going to Burbank meant lying to two grieving kids…

He turned, about to jump down, when two tiny hands rested on top of his and he looked down to meet Pinky’s earnest gaze.

“ _I_ think you’re prince material,” Pinky said gently.

It was such a small sentence, such small words, but it still made Elo reel because- him? _Him?_ He knew Pinky was insane, but…

But Pinky’s opinion _mattered_ to him.

“You think so?” Elo asked.

“I know so,” Pinky said. He sat, kicking his legs over the edge of the railing. “I used to work in the palace,” he continued brightly. “It wasn’t all- all _boring._ It was _fun._ King William was nice to everyone and Queen Angelina was _so_ smart. The kids…” He smiled at Elo. “They weren’t the boring princes and princess you’re imagining. They were funny and loud, and always pulling pranks.”

“I like pranks,” Elo said, looking at the water.

“Me too,” Pinky said. He was quiet for a moment. Brain climbed up to join them, unusually silent.

“Please come to Burbank with us,” Pinky said. Elo looked at him and Pinky steadily held his gaze, his eyes bright, his smile kind. “I don’t want you to leave,” he continued. “And I don’t want you wanderin’ off all on your own.”

“There’s nothing left back there,” Brain added. He sounded so solemn. Maybe even a little sad. But his voice was full of conviction when he added, “Everything is in Burbank.”

Elo wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Moments like these, he wasn’t sure what to make of Brain either. Pinky was nutty, but he knew that Pinky liked him- with Brain, it was harder to tell. Sometimes Elo couldn’t tell what he was feeling himself.

But he knew they had a point.

He kept his eyes on his reflection as he mulled it over. If he looked at them he’d either cave or run away without a backwards glance. Whatever choice he made, this had to be _his_ decision.

Prince material. No, he didn’t think so, not really. But...But worst-case scenario, this Nurse would say he wasn’t Yakko and send him on his way. No harm done. Best case scenario…

_“Once upon a December…”_

_“Take my hand!”_

_“Let’s make this guy our new_ special friend! _"_

_“Hell-ooooo NURSE!”_

_“Don’t let go!”_

_“Help him!”_

Was he going mad? Was he making things up, imagining it? Or was he…

There was only one real way to find out, wasn’t there?

Smiling, Elo hopped down off the railing. “Alright,” he said. “I hate studying though, so this had better be interesting.” Both mice lit up; Pinky clapped delightedly.

“I remember it well,” Brain said as he climbed off the railing. “You were born in Acme Falls, in your family’s favourite palace.” He glanced back at Elo as they walked. “The one we met in, actually. They rang the town’s bells as soon as your birth was announced, and they went on well into the evening. When the sun set they set off fireworks in your honour.”

Elo gave a startled laugh, struggling to imagine it. All that for a baby? “Seriously?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Brain said with a nod. He gestured to Elo grandly. “You started horse-riding lessons when you were three.”

“It was a big white horse!” Pinky cut in. “You loved doing jumps when you got older.”

It sounded like a fairytale, Elo thought. It sounded too lovely to be real.

And yet, maybe it was.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“We’ll have to work on your posture,” Brain said. Both mice were back on Elo’s shoulders by now, and Brain pulled Elo’s shoulders back, tutting over his slouch. “And chin up.” Rolling his eyes, Elo obeyed. “Don’t walk,” Brain continued. “Try to...float.”

One thing he had to hand to the royal siblings: despite their zany personalities, they’d had impeccable posture. Their mother wouldn’t settle for any less.

At Brain’s suggestion, Elo walked with his book of fairytales on his head; he kept giggling and slouching, ducking his head, laughing harder as he jumped to save his book from landing in the dirt. Brain sighed, rubbing his forehead each time it happened- though to be fair to the boy, within the hour he’d made a big improvement. He walked with his shoulders back, his head held high and his hands lightly clasped.

For a moment, it was startingly easy to imagine a crown on Elo’s head. Until he inevitably started slouching again, but it was a vast improvement all the same.

“Back to trivia,” Brain said. “First off, Yakko hated tea. He much preferred coffee.” He allowed himself an amused smile. “Which I assume you have no objection to.”

Elo stuck his tongue out. “Tea’s gross,” he said. “Coffee’s got way more flavour.”

It was Elo’s powers that worried him the most. Yakko had always been using his powers, as easily as breathing, but Elo clearly struggled. Shame-faced, the boy admitted that the fight against Plotz and Ralph had been a fluke. He hadn’t at all been sure it would work. He was as surprised as they were by the dynamite. 

“I’d never jumped like that before,” Elo said, clutching his pendant. “I’d never summoned dynamite either.”

“We can work with this,” Brain said. “You don’t remember anything from before the invasion? We can say your powers were disrupted by your amnesia.” That part, Brain reflected, wasn’t even a lie- that much he was sure was true.

But it seemed the idea had never occurred to Elo, because he looked staggered by the suggestion. “Oh,” he said quietly, clutching his pendant even tighter. “Maybe…”

“Maybe,” Brain agreed, though he was certain he was right. “But we can try and work on some small tricks as we go.” He thought of the steam bursting from Elo’s ears when he got worked up. “It seems to me that you’re already improving.”

“Thanks,” Elo said, while Pinky rattled off pieces of trivia, all he remembered from working in the palace.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was late in the afternoon when they managed to flag down a cart, heading to the market in the next town. Brain certainly didn’t want Elo trying to summon anything dangerous while they sat on the hay bales in the cart, but small objects seemed a good place to start.

“Try to imagine what they’d feel like in your hand,” Brain urged. “The texture, the size. _Really_ focus on it.” He wished they had a book about toon theory with them, and wondered if there’d be a bookshop in the town when they arrived. Surely there would be, but whether it would be in business or not was a gamble.

“And make it funny!” Pinky added. He summoned an entire cuckoo clock; the hands struck four, and a cuckoo bird with Pinky’s head and voice popped out, shouted _“Narf! Zoit! Egad!”_ Elo burst out laughing and the clock vanished into thin air. Pinky smiled in satisfaction, clapping his hands together.

“Now you try,” he encouraged. “It can be anything, just start out small.”

Elo looked at his empty hand and frowned in concentration. He closed his eyes, his fur fluffing out as his frown deepened, his tail bristled-

And suddenly there was a little silver pocket watch in his hand. 

“Woo!” Pinky clapped, jumping in place.

“Wow,” Elo breathed. The watch popped open and a little cuckoo bird popped out. It blew a raspberry at them, flapping its wings, and promptly vanished again in a puff of oddly purple smoke.

_“I did it!”_ Elo jumped up with a cheer, throwing his head back and laughing. “I did it, I did it, I really did it, it _worked!_ ”

“Sit down, kid!” the driver shouted. Elo took no notice, hopping about, tail wagging, until Brain pulled him back into his seat.

“Yes, well done,” Brain said dryly, though he meant it, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Now-” He pulled out his history book. “Back to the family tree.”

Elo groaned, slumping in his seat. “I hate studying,” he complained yet again.

“Then we’ll do our best to keep it interesting,” Brain said with a smirk. “Now, where was the Countess Slappy born?”

“Burbank,” Elo answered, rolling his eyes.

“And the Tasmanian Devil-”

“Was nicknamed Taz,” Pinky chirped, perched on Elo’s knee.

“We’ve been over this a dozen times today,” Elo said tiredly.

“And we’ll go over it a dozen more,” Brain said firmly. He turned the page. “There’s Granny-”

“She has a little yellow bird named Tweety, a bulldog named Hector and a black and white cat named Sylvester,” Elo interrupted, rolling his eyes. He held his hand out, eyes narrowed, and a small flower appeared. Pinky sniffed it and it sprayed water at him before vanishing.

“Yes, she-” Brain paused. Hold on now…He leaned in to whisper to Pinky, “I didn’t tell him that yet. Did you?”

Pinky shook the water off himself. “Huh? No, Brain.”

Slowly, Brain looked to Elo. The little toon was watching the clouds, smiling to himself and humming.

What was that saying again? Brain wondered. Ah, yes: _curiouser and curiouser._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was evening by the time they reached the town. The boat they needed wasn’t leaving until early the next morning. They found a tiny run-down inn, and Brain went in search of a book shop.

By luck, he found one- what’s more, it was actually opened, and even had a book on toon-theory. Elo smiled when Brain handed it to him, eagerly beginning to read through it.

The feeling of _curiosity_ did not abate, even when he lay down to rest. Elo lay on his bed, reading the theory book. Pinky sat by him, nibbling on a small hunk of cheese. Their boat tickets had been purchased, they were ready to go. They’d be in Burbank in two days.

They had two days to transform Elo The Orphan into Prince Yakko Warner.

Brain was not used to being an optimistic mouse, but he was suddenly sure they could do it.

Who else could pull it off but the three of them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, dreams and nightmares...


	8. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three little royals dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Salazar's spell has a twist he didn't anticipate 😉
> 
> Songs I listened to for this chapter:  
> Right Here by Ashes Remain  
> In My Dreams, from Anastasia on Broadway  
> Constant As The Stars Above from Barbie As Rapunzel (it still slaps 🤷)

_"I’ve seen flashes of fire, heard the echos of screams, but I still have this faith in the truth of my dreams. In my dreams it’s all real, and my heart has so much to reveal. And my dreams seem to say 'Don’t be afraid to go on; don’t give up hope, come what may.' I know it all will come back one day"._ \- Anastasia: Broadway

  
  
  


Brain was still nagging about his posture as they headed down to the docks. This time, they’d been able to take their time getting ready, as the boat didn’t leave until mid-afternoon...Which gave Brain plenty of time to test Elo on what he’d remembered so far, and to nag him rotten about the way he walked, sat and ate.

Elo was about five seconds away from throwing the mouse into the ocean.

So he was quite surprised that, when they found their cabin, Brain pushed a plain brown bag towards him.

“You can hardly show up in rags, you’re right about that,” he said, somewhat gruffly. “So I bought you some clothing.”

Eagerly, Elo pulled the clothes out- and immediately had to bite back a fit of giggles. Most of it was way too big. The white shirt was, at least, only one size too large if that, and the new gloves would fit perfectly, but the lavender jacket and black pants were much too big and long, one glance alone told him that.

So Elo did what Elo did best: made a joyful nuisance of himself.

“You got me some tents!” he said brightly and threw the jacket over his head, peering at every little stitch and seam.

“What on earth are you doing?” Brain demanded.

“Looking for the circus,” Elo said with utmost seriousness. “I think it’s still in here.”

Brain threw the toon-theory book at him. Laughing, Elo ducked and it hit Pinky instead. “Zoit!” Pinky yelped, staggering in place and spinning.

“Just try them on,” Brain said, already looking tired of his antics. He grabbed a dazed Pinky by the arm and dragged him to the door. “Come along, Pinky, give the boy some privacy.”

“Stars…” Pinky slurred, gesturing clumsily to the stars circling his head. Brain sighed again and shut the door behind them, having to push with his full weight for it to close properly.

Elo was left alone, kneeling on the floor, peering at the clothes curiously. His own belt, while faded, would still serve its purpose on the new trousers. They may be baggy, but he was sure he could at least turn the hems up. The shirt was only a little big, not ridiculously so. But the coat, while his favourite colour, was much too large, nearly the size of the one he already had.

Still, he had to admit it was nice to have something new. Big or not, they were clearly brand-new; not faded, torn or patched.

And it was nice of Brain. Jokes aside, Elo would have to thank him. But what to do about the sheer _size_ of this stuff? 

A faint light-bulb flickered to life above his head before immediately vanishing. He could sew. It wasn’t like he could turn the outfit into a masterpiece, but he knew the basics and he was good at it. They’d had to fix their own clothes at the orphanage; most of the time when you asked a matron, they’d gruffly tell you to do it yourself, or they’d do a rubbish job and you’d get your clothes back with weird bunches in the material.

He rooted through Pinky and Brain’s bags and found only a small spool of thread. Sighing, he looked to the toon-theory book and smiled. Well then. At least _this_ type of studying was fun.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Pinky was losing at checkers when Elo finally joined them on deck. He wasn’t really sure why it was taking Elo so long to get changed (were the clothes really _that_ big?), but Brain didn’t seem concerned, so Pinky let it go...But if Elo drowned in his clothes, Pinky would be holding Brain responsible.

“Hey, guys,” came Elo’s voice, giddy and excited. Pinky looked up and immediately cooed, _“Aaaww!”_

No wonder Elo had taken such ages; he’d completely changed the outfit. He spun on the spot, showing off, and Pinky thought he was right to. The big lavender coat was now a vest, held as tight against Elo’s skinny frame as could be managed; the new gloves fit perfectly, the shirt was only a little too big, but it was mostly hidden by the vest anyway. Pinky didn’t think the baggy sleeves looked too bad really. Elo had turned up the hems on the trousers to stop them trailing past his feet and sewn a strip of lavender fabric down the seams of the legs.

“Better?” he asked, though by his smile he knew it was.

“You look great!” Pinky said, giving him two thumbs up.

“Better,” Brain said with a nod, and a barely-there smile. “Much better.”

Elo’s smile widened. “And I’ve got a surprise,” he said. From his pockets, he pulled two tiny lavender jackets and laid them down on the checkers board. “That jacket really was _way_ too big,” he added teasingly. “I had a lot to work with.”

“Aaww, _Elo!_ ” Pinky hugged his arm tightly, wrapping his arms and legs around Elo. Brain was very quiet, but he pulled his new jacket on.

“Well…” He cleared his throat and Pinky thought that Brain looked a little- well- _pink._ His own smile grew. “Thank you, Elo,” Brain said.

Elo kept on smiling as he took his seat. “You too.” Only then did Pinky let go of him to try his own jacket on. It was a good fit and he struck poses on the table and checkers board, hands on his hips.

“We look like a team,” he said happily. The idea seemed to please Elo; he sat up straighter, eyes bright, smile even bigger. Even Brain seemed quietly pleased.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Plotz looked nervous, as well he might. The foolish man and the even more foolish guard were only now at the docks, when Salazar knew full-well that Yakko and his infernal companions were already on a ship.

A ship that, in two days, would be docking in Burbank.

“The brat cannot reach Burbank alive,” Salazar snarled.

“But- but, sire-” Plotz gulped. “He’s gone.” The red-tinted image of Plotz and Ralph blurred for a moment, swirling at the edges before settling again. Ralph nodded rapidly in agreement with Plotz.

Salazar snapped his fingers and, next to him, a second image appeared: Yakko, on the deck of a ship with those mice. The smaller mouse, the one with the oddly round head, seemed to be teaching Yakko to play checkers. _How touching,_ Salazar thought with a sneer. 

“Well, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself,” Salazar said. He turned back to Plotz and Ralph. “You will stay where you are. You are not to come back here until I summon you.”

“But, Your Majesty-” With a wave of his hand, Plotz was cut off and the image disappeared. He turned back to the image of Yakko, eyes narrowed. 

He’d promised his soul for these new powers. He’d best use them.

Inside the well, the little voices began to whisper together, eager as always to cause suffering. Smiling, Salazar snapped his fingers and the image of Yakko split into two, smaller images: one of Yakko, the other of Wakko and Dot. The younger Warners were together as always. They were in a garden, Wakko was pushing Dot on a swing.

“They’ll be missing each other,” Salazar said, partially to himself and partially to the little voices. “They should be reunited before their end.”

The little voices began to laugh.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A storm was beginning to pick up. Pinky looked decidedly _green,_ burping and shivering as the ship rocked from side to side. Elo didn’t feel sick, but he eyed their possessions and wondered if they ought to nail them down, everything was shaking so badly. Brain was fast asleep on the top bunk, apparently oblivious to the storm and rocking.

“That’s a skill,” Elo said, standing on tip-toe to peer into the top bunk. He looked sympathetically at Pinky, who was curled up next to Brain and clearly miserable. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I like boats,” Pinky said weakly. He hiccuped again and pulled a mouse-sized bucket from his hammerspace, tucking it firmly against the corner of the bunk. Elo looked at the little cabinet above the sink and wondered what the odds were that there’d actually be anything inside. He’d only taken two steps when one of Brain’s bags rolled across the floor, spilling its contents as it went. A gleam of gold caught Elo’s eye and he paused.

It was a little box; a lovely gold and purple box, a little round thing that would fit neatly in his palm.

He took one look at it and the room seemed to spin.

_“On the wind, ‘cross the sea…”_

_He was perched on a man’s knee as a woman held out a small baby boy for his inspection. The little one’s tongue was poking out, he looked up at them all with big black eyes, and he grinned, certain-sure they would be best friends…_

_He was helping a little girl dance, taking small steps back and forth, both of them singing the instructions. “One two three, one two three, and spin!” The girl giggled, cute as a button, pink skirts flying as she spun…_

Dazed, Elo knelt and picked up the little box. His finger traced the delicate carvings, lingering on the clasp.

_It was a boring old grown-up party, but the three of them were too curious to sleep. They hid in a cabinet on the upper landing, peering through the fine-mesh back onto the party below. The adults danced beautifully, gleaming with jewels. It was like a fairytale…_

He gave a small tug, but the lid stayed firmly shut. He looked at the tiny slit in the back- a key hole?- and looked into Brain’s open bag, but couldn’t see a key.

“It’s pretty,” Pinky said, still sounding terribly croaky, but when Elo looked at him he managed a smile. 

“Where’s the key?” Elo asked. His breathing felt too slow, his voice too sluggish. It suddenly felt like moving would be a supreme effort.

“Dunno,” Pinky said. He looked at the little box and shrugged. Reluctantly, Elo put it back in Brain’s bag; he pulled it tightly shut. He felt cold. His hands felt unbearably empty. He knelt there, staring at the bag, struggling with the urge to snatch the little box back out and hold it close.

But then poor Pinky hurled into the bucket and Elo jumped up to the cabinet, searching for any medicine. 

When Pinky was sorted out and he finally lay down, he felt oddly light-headed. He gripped his pendant and when he closed his eyes, he saw dancers, glittering with jewels, dancing and dancing without music.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Salazar looked at the three sleeping Warners and smiled. Three red figures rose from the well, only the size of bats. As they approached, they morphed into red butterflies, their wings shining like rubies, leaving sparks in their wake.

“Go,” he said, and the butterflies flew into the images and vanished from the room. In seconds, he could see a butterfly floating over each Warner, before they turned into sparks and drifted down, landing on each Warner siblings’ eyes.

_Now,_ he thought. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Wakko’s dreams usually involved three things: food, his family, or pranks. Maybe all three at once._

_He opened his eyes to find himself in a lovely garden, an equally beautiful castle in the distance. It tugged at his memory and he jumped to his feet when he realised; it was their family’s summer palace. Where Mum took them for picnics._

_Smiling, he went in search of his siblings, already in his beach clothes, a lollipop in hand. It was a beautiful sunny day, warm and bright. He was surrounded by flowers and three ruby-red butterflies flew ahead of him. Wakko popped the lollipop into his mouth and ran after them._

_Over a little hill, he found Yakko. There was a twinge of guilt that his waking-self would have drowned in, but it was gone before he could really focus on it. Laughing, he ran to his brother’s side. Yakko was lying on the grass, spread out like a starfish, a little crease in his forehead as he frowned at the butterflies._

_“Hi, big brother!” Wakko chirped. He bit the lollipop in half and smiled, leaning over Yakko. His brother returned the smile and gently knocked his nose against Wakko’s._

_Dot’s giggles reached them and suddenly she was there, jumping on top of them both in her pink and yellow swimsuit, smiling at them both, smiling so wide it made her eyes squint. Yakko laughed, teasingly tugging on the tips of her ears, and Wakko gulped down the last of the lollipop, stick and all. Wakko would have been happy to lay there in the sunshine, with his siblings. For once, picnics could wait._

_But then their parents’ voices called their names, echoing on the slight breeze._

_The siblings got to their feet, hand in hand, and followed their parents voices._

  
  
  


On a ship, eyes still closed in sleep, Elo climbed silently from his bed and left the cabin. In Burbank, Dot and Wakko left their rooms and walked down the hall together. Dot’s snores fell silent, Wakko’s head lolled as he walked. Elo’s hand trailed against the wall as he made his way to the deck.

All three were firmly, deeply asleep, and all three walked silently to the same fate.

  
  
  


_“Come on, darlings!” Angelina called. They reached the edge of the cliff and peered into the bright blue ocean below. Their parents swam in the water, beaming up at them._

_“Hello, little ones,” Angelina said with her old gentle smile._

_“Hello,” Yakko said. He sounded surprisingly shy and Wakko squeezed his hand. Dot waved at their parents, leaning forward._

_“Jump in,” William told them. He gestured for them, chuckling at their hesitation. “Jump!”_

  
  
  


Elo climbed onto the ship’s edge, clutching a rope to stay steady. Wakko and Dot slipped outside, onto a balcony and climbed onto the railing.

And Elo began to frown in his sleep, shivering as the rain and wind battered against him.

  
  
  


_“Jump!” William called again. Wakko took a step forward, but Yakko gave him and Dot a sharp tug backwards, holding them by his side._

_“Wait,” Yakko said. He looked around at their beautiful garden and private beach; the sunshine and butterflies, the flowers and distant palace. “Something’s not right,” he said. Wakko frowned, looking around as well. It all seemed_ right _to him. He was about to say so, when things sharply changed._

_William and Angelina began to laugh; sharp, harsh laughter, oddly high-pitched._

_“JUMP!” they roared. Suddenly, it wasn’t their parents; it was two, blood-red monsters with sharp fangs and claws and wings like bats._ “JUMP!” _they shrieked, rising into the air._

_Dot screamed, clutching Yakko tightly and their brother shoved them behind him as the scenery changed. It wasn’t their garden anymore; it was a destroyed landscape, covered in blood and dead flowers, the grass scorched black. The ocean turned to lava and the smell of rot filled the air. The cliff crumbled away, leaving them standing on a tiny patch of land, barely big enough for the three of them._

_The demons that used to be their parents shrieked and laughed and shot down towards them. Wakko could only watch in terror, frozen to the spot._

_But Yakko jumped in front of them, a sword suddenly in hand, his beach clothes replaced with armour like their father’s. The sword was nearly as long as Yakko was tall, glowing like the sun. As the monsters reached them, Yakko thrust the sword out with both hands, running them through. His arms shook and the monsters screamed, clawed hands reaching for him._

_Wakko didn't hesitate further; he grabbed Yakko’s right arm with both hands and Dot grabbed his left, both of them keeping him steady. Finally, Wakko looked away from the monsters and looked at his brother; Yakko’s expression was a strange mix of horror and determination. Tears were in his eyes, but he stood tall, teeth bared in a snarl, fangs on show, fur bristling._

_“Get away from them,” Yakko growled. The light from the sword grew so bright that Wakko had to close his eyes. There was one final, pained scream, and when he opened his eyes the monsters were gone._

_“Wow,” Dot whispered. The hellscape around them slowly changed again; it wasn’t their summer palace, but their family’s favourite one. The one in Acme Falls. They were in the ballroom, decorated for the last ball, at the height of its glory. All three of them were dressed for a ball and the sword was gone, though all three still stood with their arms linked._

  
  
  


Slowly, Elo stepped back onto the soaking deck. In tandem, Wakko and Dot climbed back onto the balcony. Elo gripped the edge of the ship, shivering in the rain, teeth grit. Wakko’s tail twitched and swished in agitation; Dot bared her teeth, fists clenched.

And two frantic voices screamed for him from across the deck. “Elo!" a deep voice called, while a higher one cried, "Elo, where are you!?” In a flash, they were there. Pinky and Brain climbed up Elo, clinging tightly to him against the wind and rain. Tears poured down his cheeks, though his eyes were firmly shut.

“Elo!” Pinky pulled on the boy’s fur, standing on tip-toe to scream into his ear. “Elo, wake up!”

“It’s just a dream,” Brain said, shaking Elo’s shoulder. “Wake up, you’ll catch your death out here.”

  
  
  


_Slowly, they lowered their arms. Dot turned on the spot, staring at their parents’ empty thrones, at Scratchy’s empty chair and their own empty seats, engraved with their family’s crest._

_It was a clear, starry night outside, but Wakko could hear thunder and lightning. He could smell salt-water, feel a freezing-cold breeze. He could hear two voices shouting. It seemed Yakko could hear them too, because he frowned, peering over his shoulder in the direction of the voices, and Wakko was hit with a sudden stab of terror. He grabbed his brother, hugging him tightly from behind. It wasn’t storming in Burbank, he thought._

_“Don’t go,” Wakko pleaded. “Don’t go.”_

_It startled Dot out of her reverie. With a sharp little cry she hugged Yakko tightly from the front, both of them sandwiching him in. Yakko wrapped an arm around them both; he looked bewildered, Wakko thought. Like he suddenly wasn’t quite sure who they were._

_“Yakko-” Dot stood on tip-toe to cup their big brother’s face in her hands. She looked desperate. “Yak- where are you?” She shook him when he didn’t answer._ “Quick, where are you?”

_Yakko frowned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I…”_

  
  
  


Wakko woke to Scratchy shaking him, to Nurse calling Dot’s name. They were standing on a balcony. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. His head was pounding and he couldn’t stop shivering, though it wasn’t _that_ cold.

_Yakko,_ he thought, and tears filled his eyes. It was just a dream, he tried to tell himself. But it had been so _real,_ and...and what were he and Dot even doing out here? Wakko sometimes sleepwalked (and sleep _ate_ ), but not Dot. He gave his sister a confused glance; she was held in Nurse’s arms, looking up at the full moon with wide eyes. She clutched her pendant tightly.

“Yakko,” she whispered. Scratchy and Nurse froze, looking at each other sadly.

“Oh, honey,” Nurse said gently. She stroked Dot’s hair and Scratchy’s face crumpled.

“It is- understandable,” Scratchy said sadly. “Ze sleepwalking, ja?” He looked at Wakko knowingly. “A nightmare?” he asked. Wakko thought of his brother jumping in front of them, sword in hand, ready to protect them. He thought of the sea-salt smell in the ballroom, the unknown voices calling out…

And he shook his head. “I'm not sure,” he said, barely above a whisper. Mimicking his sister, his hand went to his pendant. “I don’t think so.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elo was soaked to the bone, shaking, teeth chattering. He obediently sat on his bunk while Pinky ran a towel over his fur, trying to dry him off. Brain pulled Elo’s old yellow shirt from his bag; it was dry and warm and would do as replacement nightclothes for now.

Even when Elo was dried off and changed, he still moved slowly, stiffly. He looked frightened, Brain thought. Not just frightened, but _confused._ He kept looking over his shoulder, ears twitching.

“Nightmare?” Pinky asked, tossing the damp towel aside. Elo shrugged, fiddling with his pendant. Brain didn’t like the silence from him. It simply did not suit him. Chatter and laughter suited Elo, not this awful silence. 

When Elo lay down, Pinky joined him; he curled up on the boy’s pillow, just above his head. For a moment, Brain hesitated. He glanced up at his and Pinky’s bunk...But one look at Elo made his mind up for him. He lay down on Elo’s other side and pulled the blanket up higher, nearly to the boy’s chin.

“Try to get some more sleep,” he said. Pinky curled in closer, one hand resting on Elo’s fur.

“We’re here,” Pinky said so quietly, that even Brain barely heard him. “You’re okay.” The storm was calming down, the rocking wasn’t so obvious. Pinky nodded off first, snoring. 

Brain stayed awake until he was sure Elo was fast asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Far away, back in Acme Falls, King Salazar let out a furious yell as the Warner siblings woke safely in the arms of their guardians. Magic blasted from him in a ring, shattering bottles in the room, spilling potions and toppling furniture.

The little voices laughed, tiny titters on the edge of hearing.

He gripped the edge of the well, peering into the swirling mass below. The laughter rose, mocking him.

He’d promised his soul, and he still failed to rid himself of three brats.

_If you want something done right,_ he thought to himself, fingers tapping. His clock pendant dimmed for a moment, but glowed brighter when he turned for the door. Yes, if he wanted something done right he would have to do it himself.

Magic from afar wouldn’t do it. No, he would have to go after the Warners in person.

Fists clenched, cape trailing in his wake, eyes feverish, Salazar went in search of his best men.

He’d let them be for five years. It was time to end this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolling past, sipping my tea* Sorry not sorry


	9. Burbank Holds The Key (To Your Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio make it to Burbank at last, and a startling truth hits Pinky and the Brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's coming 😉
> 
> Songs I listened to while writing this chapter are:  
> Paris Holds The Key To Your Heart, from Anastasia (of course!)  
> This Is Me, from The Greatest Showman  
> A Million Dreams, from The Greatest Showman  
> This Is Me, from Camp Rock (yes I've been binging old Disney Channel movies)  
> Praying by Kesha

_“Paris holds the key to her past. Yes, Princess, I've found you at last. No more pretend; you'll be gone, that's the end…”_ \- Anastasia

  
  
  
  


Dot wasn’t usually the brooding sort, but _something_ was going on. Usually, when she dreamed of Yakko, she dreamed of the nine year old that she’d known. When she dreamed of him as he _should_ be, his features were a bit blurred; she could never get a true image of him. 

But that last dream...She’d seen him, heard him and _felt_ him clear as day. She’d smelled salt-water on the air, and Yakko had looked at her like he wasn’t totally sure of who she was, or how she’d gotten there. He hadn’t been a carefree little boy, he’d been a teenager and he’d jumped in front of two monsters for her and Wakko.

And Wakko had the exact same dream.

And they’d both ended up on the balcony. 

_I don’t sleepwalk,_ Dot thought, because it _bugged_ her. Wakko teased her for snoring, but she’d never sleep-walked before. Wakko sometimes did, but never her. 

It freaked her out, honestly.

Sitting on her bed, Dot slid her pendant into her music box; she wound it up until it opened and the music began. She slipped the pendant back around her neck and watched the tiny figures of her parents spin and listened to their family’s lullaby.

_Soon you’ll be home with me._ Dot wished that was true. She wished that more than anything.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The boat docked and, feeling like he was dreaming, Elo stepped off the plank and into the streets of Burbank. For five years straight he’d dreamed of coming to this city. For five years he’d held onto the hope that he’d come here and find his family. 

He’d never had a real _plan._ In his dreams, he was walking down the street and then he’d lock eyes with toons that looked just like him. They’d recognise him, recognise the pendant and just like that, he’d be home.

The dream (nightmare?) from the ship still echoed in his mind. Those kids- he’d dreamed of Prince Wakko and Princess Dot. 

They’d called him _Yakko._

He tried to brush it off as a terrible dream. He was given more and more ‘Warner trivia’ every minute of the day, he supposed it only made sense that he’d dream of them. It even made sense that he’d dream of the ballroom where he’d met Pinky and Brain.

That pretty garden though, that palace by the beach, it had been familiar too. And when those monsters lunged at them, his only thought had been that he had to keep those little kids safe…

So he had.

Elo still wondered if he was just lying to himself- but a growing part of himself couldn’t deny that he really, truly _hoped_ he was Yakko. That maybe finding his family would be this easy after all.

He twisted his pendant around his fingers as they tried to hail a cab, and wondered if Pinky and Brain would still want him around if he wasn’t Yakko. Would they stay while he looked for his family? Would they still be friends?

He held onto that hope too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


There was a knock on the door in the early afternoon. A maid answered and said, “Oh hello, little one!”

Heloise peered over the maid’s shoulder and had to do a double take: the little toon on the doorstep was the very image of Wakko, only taller. And those two white mice on his shoulders…

It came back to her in a flash: she remembered a laboratory, raided and shut down for unethical experiments on animals and toons. She remembered nursing some of those poor unfortunate animals and toons back to health; she remembered Angelina and William welcoming them to the palace staff, or finding them a suitable place to live, depending on the wishes of those involved.

Two of those very experiments were on the boy’s shoulders. She couldn’t quite remember their names, but she knew those distinctive features. They were some of the first who had been brought to her.

“Hello there,” Heloise said, gently brushing the maid aside. “Can I help you, darlings?”

The taller mouse and the boy immediately flushed. Hearts floated around the mouse, the boy’s mouth hung open. The smaller mouse began to speak in a surprisingly deep voice; “Good day, madam. I am The Brain, this is my associate-”

“Helloooooo, _NURSE!_ ” the mouse and boy cried. The mouse jumped in the air, heels clicking. For a moment, the boy looked dazed with a smitten little smile, but when she looked at him he went bright pink, rubbing the back of his neck.

The smaller mouse clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth, and over the other mouse’s.

“My apologies,” he said stiffly.

But Heloise couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head. It was an old nickname and one she was well used to. And yet…She eyed the boy curiously. He sounded like- like…She took him in, his skinny frame, his unusual ears and big black eyes, the clean but ill-fitting clothes.

“I think you’d better come inside, sweetheart,” she said. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to step in which he did, looking all around him with wide eyes.

“Wow,” he whispered to himself. 

“Be so good as to fetch something to eat,” Heloise said quietly to the watching maid. “And some drinks too.” She led the odd trio into the sitting room; the toon boy was still staring at everything like he couldn’t quite believe it was real. When he looked at her he got the exact same slightly dazed look that Wakko got.

“Take a seat,” she said, unable to truly take her eyes off the child. He looked so much like Wakko, like _Yakko,_ that it was frightening. Only when he sat did she turn her attention to his companions.

“The Brain, wasn’t it?” she asked, and looked to the taller mouse, who had hearts in his eyes. Her smile widened as she remembered. “And Pinky, I assume?” The mouse- Pinky- nodded eagerly.

She looked at the boy again. “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Elo,” the boy said. He was still tightly gripping the handle of his suitcase. Brain tapped his hand and he set the case down, and he tugged on a thin chain of gold, mostly hidden under his shirt.

Brain stood as tall as he could, hands clasped behind him. “Nurse, may I present His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Yakko Warner?”

“Is that so?” Heloise asked as the maid came in with two trays, one with small cakes and sandwiches, another with a small tea pot and coffee pot. The maid came and went quietly, and no one spoke until the door was firmly closed.

“I think so,” Elo said. His ears dropped slightly, but he held her gaze firmly.

“You look like him,” Heloise acknowledged quietly. She pursed her lips, looking him over once more. It was truly uncanny. More so than it had ever been with any other toon.

It all seemed a strange coincidence to her: Wakko and Dot declare that they’re done, then have the exact same dream about their brother on the exact same night, even sleepwalking together. And now this. This teenager, that looked the spitting image of the Warners. He even sounded just like Yakko.

Many called her Hello Nurse, it was true. But very few cried her nickname in _that_ particular tone.

What was the real harm? she wondered.

Heloise gestured to the silver pots of tea and coffee. “Well then,” she said. “First of all, did Prince Yakko prefer tea or coffee?”

Elo’s nose wrinkled. “Coffee,” he said immediately. “It tastes way better.”

Smiling, she poured him a cup. “Good,” she said. “And where were you born?”

It went on for hours, though she knew no-one would, or could, complain. Five years of liars and cons, she wasn’t about to take him at his word, even if he looked like Yakko. Even if he sounded like him. Even if he fidgeted the same way the prince had.

It was past four in the evening when they reached the final question.

“It’s a...sensitive question,” Heloise said gently. Elo sat up straight, fingers tapping on the plush sofa. “Apologies, my dear, but how did you escape during the siege of the palace?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brain didn’t often swear, but he had to bite his tongue to keep quiet now. The escape. How in god’s name did he forget to tell Elo how the Warners had gotten out that night? He should have anticipated that Elo would be asked.

It was a story he had only told once, to Pinky; he’d told him everything the morning after the invasion, as the news slowly came to them that Prince Yakko was missing.

Even Pinky deflated when Nurse asked the dreaded question. 

But Elo didn’t look panicked at all. He frowned slightly, eyes gone dim as he stared into the distance; his hand rested over his heart, over his pendant, hidden under his shirt.

When he spoke, the world turned upside down.

“There was a servant,” he said slowly. “Some sort of animal, I think...He was really small.” His eyes narrowed and his shoulders hunched in. “He opened a wall…There was a tunnel; it took us out the back...” He trailed off and shook his head, grinning at Nurse. “Sorry,” he said. “That sounds nuts.”

Brain felt as close to fainting as he’d ever been. The room actually seemed to spin for a moment, black spots in his vision, his blood roaring in his ears and Elo’s words echoing over and over. His legs shook and he was just grateful to be sitting down.

No way. It was impossible. It was simply impossible. Yakko was _dead,_ this was just meant to be a con, they weren’t- Elo _wasn’t…_

_Good god,_ Brain thought, staring at Elo with wide eyes, with new eyes. It wasn’t just an uncanny resemblance. It wasn’t just having traits in common, nor was it a convenient backstory.

Elo was Yakko. Elo was the prince.

_You’re the rightful king,_ he thought blankly. 

Pinky’s mouth was hanging open as he stared at Elo; he caught Brain’s gaze and his eyes widened further, nearly popping from his head. He made a choked little noise, looking from Brain to Elo.

Brain nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure he could get the words out.

Elo- no, _Yakko, Prince Yakko Warner,_ sat between them, oblivious. It all clicked into place; the odd little things the boy would say, how he knew facts about the nobility before Brain could tell him, how he sometimes walked like a prince without even needing to be prompted- how he walked like a _king,_ even. His mischievous personality and jokes, and talkative ways, his stubborn attitude. Even the dreams he’d been having suddenly made sense.

But the amnesia...Brain wanted to ask what had happened, though of course there was no good in that. Yakko didn’t remember.

_Yakko didn’t remember._

Eyes too bright, lips trembling even as he smiled, Pinky laid both his hands on top of Elo’s free hand; the other still tapped at his pendant. Brain cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. “Well, madam? What do you think?”

Nurse looked staggered. Brain wondered if she knew the whole story of the Warner siblings’ escape. Surely she must know at least some of it? Surely they hadn’t kept it even from her? It had never been made public, and Brain had always considered that a smart move on Scratchansniff’s part. 

Blue eyes still trained on Yakko, Nurse said, “Do you like the theatre, sweetheart?”

Yakko blinked, head tilted. “Uuuuhhh…” (And Brain had to close his eyes even at that, sudden memories of a younger Yakko mumbling like that when William caught him in a prank.) “I guess so,” Yakko said. 

Nurse patted Yakko’s hand; the boy looked absolutely delighted, giving a choked (and clearly smitten) giggle when she did.

“Well, there’s a showing of Cinderella tonight,” she said. “Why don’t you join us there?” Her smile was gentle, almost motherly. “We can introduce you then.”

Elo- _Yakko,_ returned her smile with a giddy one of his own. “But we don’t have tickets,” he pointed out.

“You leave that to me,” Nurse said with a wink. Yakko turned the most alarming shade of pink.

Brain had to slip out of the room before he gave into the urge to scream. Pinky followed him without a word. Thankfully Nurse kept Yakko distracted.

The door closed behind them with a tiny _‘click,’_ and Pinky opened his mouth to speak.

“Wait until we’re outside,” Brain said, more sternly than he’d necessarily intended. Pinky ran ahead of him, jumping down the front steps and Brain followed more slowly, unable to understand how he hadn’t put the pieces together before now. Why hadn’t he realised? Why hadn’t he _seen?_

In the garden, they stared at each other, at a loss.

“Brain,” Pinky said, so terribly quiet. “He’s- Elo, he’s…”

“Yakko,” Brain said, glancing back towards the window. From their vantage down in the grass, he couldn’t see Nurse or Yakko in their seats; he could only see the walls and part of the ceiling. He looked at the other windows and wondered if Dot and Wakko were here, or if they were in Scratchansniff’s home, just down the road.

They were here, Brain thought. Yakko’s family were so close by. 

_It was meant to be a con,_ he thought, as if to convince himself. He wasn’t meant to care, he wasn’t meant to be _invested_ in this, except for the money.

“He’s found his family,” Pinky said. He still sounded, and looked, on the verge of tears but he also looked radiantly happy. “Brain, he’s _home!_ ” He flung his arms around Brain, hugging him so tightly it hurt. “We weren’t lying!”

“No,” Brain said, and the thought of the reward money suddenly made him feel sick. “No, it seems weren’t after all.”

“Guys!” Yakko poked his head out the window, grinning brightly. “Nurse wants to take us shopping for the play!”

“Oohh, goody!” Pinky cried, clapping his hands. 

As Brain looked at Yakko, his voice deserted him again. He nodded in acknowledgement and let Pinky drag him back inside.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Heloise watched Elo flit about the huge store, Pinky and The Brain trailing in his wake. She was a smart woman, she could see how they both looked at him differently than they had only hours before: Brain appeared melancholy, almost apologetic in a way, whereas Pinky was undeniably _happy_ about something.

Only Wakko and Dot would _truly_ be able to tell, she knew that. Those two would be able to tell even more than Otto, but hope was rising in her all the same.

He was a rambunctious little thing, running about every-which-way, wanting to look at everything and nearly knocking over some mannequins, driving the attendants crazy with his refusal to stand still for long. She led the way around, expertly grabbing him when he tried to rush ahead. She was used to Wakko and Dot; five years ago she’d been used to all three of the Warners. Even if he wasn’t Yakko, she had to admit that she liked him. Loud and overly-energetic though he was, he followed after her at least _momentarily_ behaving when she gave him a stern look.

Truth be told, his story had tugged on her heartstrings. Amnesia. A brutal orphanage. A power block that he was only recently overcoming. No, even if he wasn’t Yakko, she’d make sure he was looked after. If her growing hope was wrong, if he wasn’t Yakko, maybe they (or at least she) could help find his family. At the very least, she was getting him more than one outfit; he needed clothes that fit and clothes that weren’t rags.

He rolled his eyes as the pile of clothing grew, a typical teenager in that regard, but dutifully tried each outfit on. 

When he stepped out of the changing room in a black suit with a red tie and cummerbund, Heloise nodded approvingly. “Perfect for the theatre,” she said. As she fully intended on getting some real food into the lad before the show, she had him change into a different outfit; no sense in risking the suit would be dirtied somehow. 

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when he opted to wear a lavender shirt, and a pale grey suit with soft purple pin-stripes. No, somehow the colour choice didn’t surprise her at all.

Her eyes caught a flash of gold as he fiddled with his necklace, but before Heloise could get a proper look at it, Elo had tucked it away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They briefly returned to Heloise’s home to drop off their shopping bags before heading to the restaurant she had chosen. It was a lovely place, Brain had to admit, with crystal chandeliers and roses on every table. There was a stage with a band and a dancefloor towards the front of the room.

Yakko tapped his foot in time with the music, swaying in his seat. Pinky kept watching the boy with a smile and Brain couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling of shame. Of guilt.

_I should have realised,_ he thought, watching his ice-cream melt in its bowl. He wasn’t really one for desserts in general, let alone now. Pinky ate it for him instead. Nurse watched Yakko with an amused smile as he talked her ear off, gesturing wildly as he spoke. Brain dearly wanted to ask if she knew.

He didn’t get the opportunity until a young toon girl approached the table. She was easily Yakko’s age, some sort of dog toon with long fluffy brown hair and dark green eyes. She stammered and blushed as she asked if Yakko would join her on the dancefloor.

Yakko immediately jumped up and went with her, shooting Brain, Pinky and Nurse a big grin over his shoulder, mouthing, _“Hot damn!”_

Giggling, Nurse gave him two thumbs up. Pinky’s smile was downright sappy.

As soon as Yakko was out of earshot, Brain turned to Nurse.

“You believe him, don’t you?” he asked, an accusing edge in his voice. Why else would she go to all this trouble?

She took it in stride, sipping her water (she’d waved away the wine) with a shrug. “It’s plausible,” she said, her expression giving nothing away. Her voice softened as she added, “He looks _so_ much like Wakko- and indeed like Yakko. I think he deserves a chance. Even if he’s not the prince...He’s a sweet child. It’s _plausible,_ that’s all I’ll say.”

The three of them watched Yakko spinning around the dancefloor. Five years with no lessons and no memories, and yet Brain thought the boy looked like he belonged out there.

He didn’t look at Nurse. He kept his eyes on Yakko. “Look after him,” he said.

“I will,” Nurse promised.

Brain would have to content himself with that; he knew how this would end. Wakko and Dot would know their brother. Scratchansniff would know his eldest godchild. No more pretend, no more tricks. Yakko would be home with his family.

And then he’d be gone. That would be the end of it.

Brain wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge that the idea hurt.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Plotz and Ralph were having a late (and rather terrible) dinner in the best inn they could find- and even then, Plotz thought the place looked like a pigsty. He looked around in distaste, and the patrons avoided his sharp gaze.

“Can’t we go home now?” Ralph asked plaintively.

“Not until His Majesty says so,” Plotz sighed for the twelfth time that evening. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what Salazar was planning now. Unless he expected Yakko to come back this way, Plotz didn’t see what use he and Ralph were, stuck sitting here in this inn.

But as soon as the door to their room closed behind them, red light engulfed them. They were spun around and around and Plotz had to close his eyes against the bright light; he heard Ralph gag as the spinning picked up the pace.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a run-down building; it appeared to be long since abandoned. A mansion, by the looks of things. What furniture remained was covered by dusty sheets. The chandelier overhead creaked ominously.

In front of them stood King Salazar and five soldiers; the Captain of the Guard and his second in command. Behind them lingered the other three soldiers, the very best they had. The ones who weren’t just strong in battle, but were also skilled spies.

“My king.” Plotz knelt and Ralph hastily followed his lead.

“Welcome to Burbank, Thaddeus, Ralph,” Salazar said. His clock pendant glowed and dimmed, pulsing like a heartbeat. “I hope you’re well rested. We have three little pests to hunt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next- hear this song and remember...


	10. Hear This Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the wind, 'cross the sea; it's time to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time 💕

_“On the wind, ‘cross the sea, hear this song and remember: soon you’ll be home with me, once upon a December…”_ \- Anastasia

  
  
  


Heloise smiled as Elo joined them in the hall. He’d put back on the black suit and although he fidgeted with the collar, she thought it suited him well.

Otto, Wakko and Dot hadn’t told her much about their escape, barring one detail: that a servant had helped. They didn’t say how, or whether that servant had been a human or a toon, and the story was kept firmly under wraps. None of them wished to risk that it would leak to the public. 

Only Yakko would know how they truly escaped; only the real Yakko would know it was a servant who helped. Not a guard, or a knight, nor a stroke of luck, but simply a member of the staff, doing the right thing. It wasn’t a question she asked often; she knew full-well that, if Yakko ever arrived, it would be a traumatic question.

Still, in light of everything, she’d taken a chance and asked.

And Elo was right on the money.

This time, deep in her soul, she was sure that she was right. 

When he realised that she, Pinky and Brain were staring at him, Elo rubbed the back of his neck, shuffling from side to side.

“What?” he asked. “Is there something in my fur?”

“You look lovely,” Pinky said, and Heloise could see that Brain’s melancholy was rubbing off on Pinky; he was quieter now and he looked at Elo like he was frightened that the boy would vanish from sight.

Well, she could sympathise. 

She linked arms with Elo and the boy looked absolutely delighted; a few hearts appeared around his head and quickly disappeared. Biting back a laugh, Heloise led the odd group to her car. Her driver held the doors open for them and they slipped in quietly. Elo was wringing his hands, nerves catching up with him.

So Heloise took another chance. She held his hand and leaned in to whisper, “I believe you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The fact that it was a showing of Cinderella felt terribly apt to Brain. Heloise left them to join the Duke, Prince and Princess in their private box; she’d gotten the three of them fantastic seats though, he must admit. They were in the front row of the centre balcony; he and Pinky sat on the railing so they could see. 

She’d slipped Brain a pair of golden opera-glasses and told him which box she’d be in. As the curtain rose, he found them: Prince Wakko, Princess Dot, Duke Scratchansniff and Heloise. She peered around the room and when she spotted him she gave a small wave, before turning her attention back to Dot.

Swallowing, Brain turned to Yakko. “Y- Elo,” he said, reminding himself sternly to use the boy’s false name for now. “Look here.”

Yakko leaned forward and took the glasses; he followed Brain’s instructions and when he spotted the royal siblings he fell perfectly still and silent. 

“That’s really them,” he whispered after a moment. He lowered the glasses, looking stricken. The play began in earnest, but Yakko only had eyes for his siblings. “Do you think- do you really think they’ll know me?”

“They will,” Brain said with certainty. “Of course they will.” Yakko was already remembering more and more, even if he didn’t realise himself; even if he thought it was only dreams, or him fooling himself. Even if he didn’t remember everything yet, Brain knew that his siblings would. 

Now all they had to do was wait until the intermission.

If the time dragged for Brain, he could only imagine what it felt like for Yakko.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Finally, it was time. Cinderella ran from the ball, leaving her glass slipper behind her; the prince gave chase to no avail and the curtain rose, the lights brightened. People began to speak; some went to get snacks or drinks.

“Come along then,” Brain said. “It’s time.”

For a moment, Yakko looked sick, but he was stubborn. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, nodded, and followed in Pinky and Brain’s wake. When they reached the hallway, Yakko stooped to let them climb onto his hands, and placed them on his shoulders. Pinky clung to his suit jacket tightly, looking more woebegone with each step.

“What’s wrong?” Yakko asked him. Brain held his breath, praying Pinky wasn’t about to blow it all.

But his companion, his friend, only said, “I’ll miss you, zoit.”

Yakko shook his head with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

_Oh, if only you knew,_ Brain thought. Princes- future kings at that- did not run around with servants. Though for once, as they made their way through the crowded halls, no one gave them a second glance. Thanks to Heloise’s fashion expertise they fit right in.

All too soon, they reached the box.

“You wait here,” Brain told Yakko. “Pinky and I will introduce you.” Yakko nodded, fidgeting again; he set them down, pulling the door open slightly for them. Before they could go in, he spoke up.

“Guys, I- uuuhhh…” He shrugged uneasily, but he smiled at them all the same. “It’s been utterly _insane_ trying to get here, so I just-” He broke off, practically vibrating on the spot, from anxiety or impatience, Brain wasn’t certain. Perhaps a mix of both. “Thank you,” Yakko finished. “For everything.”

Pinky wiped hastily at his eyes and Brain, never the most emotional, struggled for the right words to say.

“You’re very welcome,” he settled on. “And good luck.” He and Pinky went through the door; Pinky gave it a slight shove behind him

Neither of them noticed that the door didn’t shut. But a certain orphan did, and he lingered as close as he dared, long ears cocked to listen.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Like she’d promised, Hello Nurse was waiting for them. The curtains to the private box were mostly opened and Pinky tried not to stare; still, from the corner of his eye, he could see the shimmer of Princess Dot’s tiara.

“Madam,” Brain began. “Please inform the Duke, and the prince and princess that we have located their godson and brother, Prince Yakko. He’s waiting just outside the door.”

“I’m sorry,” Nurse said with a little wink. “But I’m afraid the prince and princess will not see anyone.”

“You may tell zem nein, Heloise,” Scratchansniff called over his shoulder, without turning around. “Wakko and Dot have had enough, I vill not subject zem to further harm.” Prince Wakko twisted around in his seat so that he could look at them; his arms hung over the back of his golden seat, his tongue poked out of his mouth. His eyes roamed over Pinky, but when he spotted Brain he frowned, eyes narrowed. He sat up a little straighter.

“Maybe we should try later,” Nurse whispered, but Pinky recognised that angry, stubborn look on Brain’s face. His friend ignored Nurse and stepped straight up to the Warners and the Duke. Gulping, Pinky followed. Even if they didn’t want to hear it, they had to make the royals listen. Yakko was _right there,_ only a doorway keeping him away from his family. Pinky hadn’t wanted to lie to them, and he _wasn’t._ They’d found Yakko, even if it was an accident, and he _liked_ Yakko. He was Pinky’s friend, and Pinky wasn’t going to let him be alone anymore.

Scratchansniff was cleaning his glasses and he looked scandalised when they stopped in front of them; Wakko looked suspicious and Dot looked surprised. The Duke shoved his glasses back on so quickly that Pinky thought he heard them crack.

_You gotta remember Brain,_ Pinky thought desperately. _You gotta._

Brain ignored Scratchansniff; his attention was on the little Warners. “We mean you no harm,” he said. “My name is Brain and this is my associate, Pinky. We worked in the palace-”

“Zat is a new one,” Scratchansniff scoffed. He stood and pulled a golden cord by the curtains. Pinky dimly heard a bell.

“Go away,” Dot said, looking uneasy. Her black eyes flicked to Brain and away again; she looked more uncomfortable by the second. She twisted a necklace around her hands- the exact same necklace that Yakko had, Pinky realised, mouth dropping open. He looked at Wakko and, sure enough, the little prince had the same necklace as his siblings.

“We’ve come all the way from Acme Falls to see you,” Brain continued, undeterred.

“And others came from Anvilania,” Scratchansniff said. Brain grit his teeth, shooting the man an impatient look. 

Pinky pointed to the royals, to their necklaces. “Yakko has-” He was cut off when two burly guards burst in.

“I know you,” Wakko mumbled, but it was lost in the sudden chaos. 

“I don’t care how much you’ve trained zis boy to act like him,” Scratchansniff was shouting at Brain. “It is never him!”

“It _is_ him!” Brain insisted. He dodged around the two guards, but Pinky wasn’t fast enough; one of them easily grabbed them off the ground.

“Otto, hear them out,” Nurse said, grabbing the Duke’s shoulder. “Please.” It was a crazy sight; Brain dodging a guard, the most undignified he’d ever been; Dot cringing back, a small mallet in hand, Scratchansniff shouting orders, Nurse pleading and Wakko staring in bewilderment, clutching his necklace.

“Pinky and the Brain,” Dot said and for a moment Pinky was hopeful, but the princess’s pretty face went from confused to angry. “Scratchy told us about you! You’re those con artists from Acme Falls! You were holding _auditions_ to find a Yakko lookalike!”

“That’s not it,” Brain said quickly, skidding to a halt in front of her. “Your Highness, I worked in the palace. I-” He was cut off when the guard grabbed him, squeezing so tightly he couldn’t speak.

“Get zem out!” Scratchansniff barked.

“No, please!” Pinky squirmed against the guard’s hold; he looked straight to Wakko. “It’s him, I promise! It’s Yakko-” He managed to wriggle an arm free and pointed. _“He has that necklace!”_ Wakko’s eyes widened, but then they were being thrown back out into the hall. They landed rather ungracefully on their backs and the door was firmly slammed shut.

Pinky took one look at the devastation on Yakko’s face and his heart sank. _He heard,_ Pinky realised. _He heard everything._

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Auditions...A Yakko lookalike...Con artists…_

Elo felt sick. He felt like he was being burned from the inside out, like he was being torn to shreds and he _hated_ how close he felt to crying. Why should he cry for Pinky and Brain? Clearly they wouldn’t cry for him. It had all been one big con.

“Y-you were lying from the start,” he stammered, backing away. 

“No!” Pinky said, scrambling to his feet. “No, Elo-”

“I was just part of your damn _con!”_ Elo spat. His fists clenched, his chest heaved- the last time he’d felt like this was when the orphanage staff tried to take his necklace. He felt so damn _stupid,_ he’d actually thought they were his _friends._

For a while he’d even believed he might be Yakko.

But who was he kidding? Certainly not the Warners. He wasn’t Yakko. He was just Elo. He was just _nobody._

He turned on his heels and stormed away, ignoring the muffled yelling coming from the royal box. Those two mice wouldn’t leave him alone; they followed after him.

“You have to listen to us,” Brain said. “It- yes, it started as a con, but you really _are_ Yakko. You’re-”

“Stop it!” Elo shouted, ignoring how everyone stopped to stare. “You _lied,_ you lied right from the start and I actually _believed_ you!”

“Elo, listen- when you spoke of the tunnel in the wall, and the servant, that was-”

_“No!”_ Elo stopped dead at the top of the stairs. The chandeliers overhead shook. “I don’t want to hear a damn thing from you, I want you to leave me alone!”

“Yakko-”

That name did him in. _“I hate you!”_ he screamed, throwing his arm out- and the mice were stopped dead in their tracks, frozen mid-step. Only their eyes could move, flickering about anxiously. Pinky looked at him, silently pleading, but Elo was done with him, with both of them.

He needed to get out of here.

Just as he turned to run, there were hurried footsteps. His heart cracked when he looked up to see Wakko and Dot standing there, Duke Scratchansniff and Hello Nurse running after them.

They were there, god, they were _real,_ they weren’t just a dream and-

_They were all three swinging from a tree-branch, laughing at their nanny’s attempts to get them down. They were jumping out of a huge cooking pot to scare the chefs. They were sneaking through the darkened halls, creeping into the kitchen for a midnight snack. They were swimming in the ocean, splashing each other and spouting water from their mouths._

Dot gave a strangled gasp, while Wakko gaped in silence. Scratchansniff shouted their names, Nurse called for _him,_ but Elo staggered back, clutching the stair’s railing.

“I’m sorry,” he told the Warners. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

And he ran. Summoning every ounce of toon power he had, he ran at an inhuman speed down the stairs; he ran across the walls, over people’s heads and was out of the theatre and into the streets in moments. He kept running, he didn’t dare slow down as he ran back to Nurse’s home.

He tried to tell himself he was only crying because the cold air cut tears into his eyes. When he tripped and fell, he tried to tell himself he was crying because it hurt.

And it did hurt. It really did.

He hauled himself up and kept running. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dot looked like she was going to faint and Wakko sure felt like he was going to.

“That was-” His sister gasped, clutching her necklace, shoulders shaking. “That was really-”

“Yakko,” the little mouse said stiffly. He moved very slowly, very awkwardly, getting back control of his limbs. “As I said.” He looked accusingly at Scratchansniff. Their godfather didn’t look much better than Wakko and Dot did.

“Impossible,” he breathed. “How- _how?_ ”

Wakko looked at Brain. Scratchansniff had been blinded by anger and grief, Dot was wary of another lie, but Wakko had _known_ the mouse was familiar. Only seconds after the guards had thrown Pinky and Brain out, Wakko had started shouting, because he _knew_ Brain. That frowning mouse had saved them five years ago.

That frowning, grumpy mouse, had brought Yakko home.

It was Yakko, Wakko _knew_ it was. He was so sure of it.

But Yakko had run.

Dot held his hand. “We need to go after him,” she said. No one argued further. They all ran down the stairs (Nurse held Pinky and Brain), but there was no sign of Yakko outside. _Please,_ Wakko thought. _Please, no, he can’t go, not now._

“Wait here,” Nurse said. “We’ll fetch the drivers.” She and Scratchy hurried back inside, calling for their drivers and Wakko bounced on the spot in agitation, tugging on his ears. Dot growled, tail bristling.

Brain was staring at Scratchy’s shiny car. “Pinky,” he said slowly. “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

Pinky, despite the tears in his eyes, smiled. “I think so, Brain,” he said. He wiped his eyes and stood up straight. “But I don’t think any of us can drive.”

Brain smiled. “Well, we’d best learn quickly.” He looked to Wakko and Dot. “Unless you have some objection?”

Wakko looked at Dot and they both grinned.

Really, it was quite easy to break Scratchy’s car open, and Brain got it running in seconds. Wakko pulled away from the curb so quickly the tires screeched and he heard Scratchy, Nurse and their drivers shouting.

He’d have plenty of time to apologise later, he figured. For now, he had a big brother to catch up to.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They screeched to a halt outside Nurse’s house, knocking into the lampost. Brain looked relieved, gripping Pinky’s arm so tightly he left marks. Pinky had cheered the whole drive there, like it was some sort of amusement ride.

Really, Dot didn’t think they’d done that badly. They’d only run a few red lights and knocked over one mailbox. It could have been way worse. They hadn't hit anyone.

But when she looked at Nurse’s house, all thoughts of amusement fled. Just like that, she was a ten-year-old girl, frightened to hope again, reeling from shock and missing her brother so much it hurt. It had only been a short look, but that boy had looked _exactly_ like Wakko, like Yakko. He’d sounded like Yakko.

He’d looked just like the Yakko in her dream.

_Where are you?_ she’d asked in the dream. _Quick, where are you?_ Evidently, he was closer than she’d have ever thought.

“I’m scared,” Dot admitted in a whisper. Wakko held her hand tightly, and Brain crept forward cautiously. He pulled a small parcel from his hammerspace, wrapped in white cloth.

“You should bring this with you,” he said and held it out. Dot took it and when she unwrapped it she wanted to cry.

It was Yakko’s music box. A perfect match of hers and Wakko’s, engraved with her brother’s initials, purple and gold. If Pinky was telling the truth, if this mysterious boy, this maybe-Yakko had the necklace, then...then…

“Where did you get this?” she asked, though she thought she knew the answer. Brain had ushered them into the tunnel. Yakko had dropped the box. They’d assumed the servant who saved them must have been killed, but clearly they were wrong about that too. Yakko had dropped it and Brain had kept it.

“You’ve been hurt,” Brain said quietly. He didn’t look at either of them for long. “You’ve been very badly hurt- all three of you.”

“Go get him,” Pinky said with a shaky smile.

_You are Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca,_ Dot reminded herself. Steeling herself, head held high, determined as ever, she climbed out of the car with Wakko.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elo had locked the bedroom door behind him, ignoring the maid’s worried questions as he frantically began to pack. Eventually, she gave up and crept away. 

_The matrons were right,_ he thought bitterly. _I’m clueless. I’m crazy._ He should have known it was all a con. He should have known he didn’t stand a chance of being Yakko. He was imagining things, making things up. Maybe his family weren’t alive or looking for him; maybe they were dead. Maybe they were glad to be rid of him.

_Together in Burbank._ What a joke. There was no one here for him.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and continued to pack, throwing shirts and pants into the suitcase, all in a ball. He picked up the lavender vest and hesitated- then threw it to the ground and stomped on it. He hated how he was shaking, he hated how he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears. He didn’t want to keep crying over those two liars.

Elo didn’t want it to hurt. He didn’t want to care.

He snapped the case shut and there was a knock on the door. Elo sighed heavily. “Look, I already told you, I’m fine,” he said. There was silence and the door handle jiggled as someone tried to open it. Growling, Elo threw himself onto the bed.

“If that’s you two, you can get lost or I’ll hit you with a mallet this time, I swear!” he shouted. The silence continued and Elo hoped he hadn’t just shouted at the maid, but if that was Pinky or Brain out there, there was no chance he was leaving this room yet. He flopped back and shut his eyes. _“Go away,”_ he repeated, voice cracking. “Seriously, just leave me alone.”

It was quiet for a moment, and there was another knock, this one from the stained-glass doors to the small balcony and Elo rolled onto his side, opening his eyes with a frown. How had Pinky and Brain gotten out there so quickly?

He winced, stomach churning, when he locked eyes with Prince Wakko and Princess Dot.

_Aw, hell._

The Princess gestured impatiently to the locked doors. Feeling very small indeed, Elo climbed off the bed and opened the doors. The prince and princess brushed past him, stepping right in like they owned the place. Well, it _was_ Nurse’s house, he was sure they spent plenty of time here.

“Uuuuhhh…” He felt at a loss for words. Utterly tongue-tied. He’d already apologised, weak, useless apology though it was. What the hell were they doing here?

They both sat on the ottoman at the end of the bed. Wakko was staring and staring at him, hardly blinking. Being near them made Elo feel dizzy.

“Who are you?” Dot asked, quite calmly.

Elo laughed, a weak, helpless noise. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He shrugged, arms spread wide. “I was sort of banking on you telling me.”

“We’re tired of being tricked,” Dot said.

“I don’t want to trick you,” Elo told her. It was the last thing he wanted. Wakko finally tore his gaze away from Elo’s face and frowned at the scattered clothes, the suitcase.

“Going somewhere?” he asked. 

“...Away from here,” Elo said, and it all came pouring out. “I didn’t know, I promise. I just- I don’t know who I am, I don’t remember and I thought- I _hoped-_ ” He closed his eyes, chest burning. “I was stupid enough to get my hopes up,” he continued. “I thought I was remembering things, but I’m just- just kidding myself, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to trick you, I’m sorry.”

When he opened his eyes they were both staring at him again. Dot tugged on a gold chain, mostly hidden under her cloak and dark pink dress. When Wakko tilted his head, there was a gleam of gold on his neck too.

Dot patted the space next to her. Elo sat, though he couldn’t for the life of him understand what they were doing here. They didn’t seem mad at all.

Sighing, he pulled his necklace from under his shirt and twisted the thin chain around his hand, flipped the pendant around.

“You mean it, don’t you?” Wakko asked. “You don’t know who you are.”

Elo shook his head, keeping his eyes glued to the pendant. He didn’t know what they wanted, but the longer they sat there, the dizzier Elo felt. He really must have been losing his marbles because he could have sworn he remembered-

_Tossing Dot into the air, laughing at her delighted shrieks._

_Letting Wakko cling to him during a check-up._

_Beaming with pride when either of them said his name for the first time, shouting for his parents to come watch as Dot crawled towards him and Wakko._

_Their voices, calling for him throughout the years; “Yakko, Yakko, Yakko!”_

He snapped out of it, short of breath, when Dot rested a hand on his arm. She and Wakko were looking at his necklace; there were tears in their eyes, hope in their eyes, and they were both smiling so sweetly.

They reached into their collars and the air was knocked from him when they pulled out necklaces that matched his. They were exactly like his. Star pendants, studded with tiny jewels on thin gold chains. Wakko held his out and turned the pendant around so Elo could read the engraving on the back: _Together In Burbank._

Elo couldn’t breathe and when Dot reached into her cloak to hold out the music box, _his_ music box, his laugh was half a sob. He took it and slipped the pendant into the tiny slit, the key-hole, and wound it up until the music box opened.

The music started, the tiny figures of Queen Angelina and King William began to spin.

_The three of them were laying on Yakko’s bed, crowded around their mother as she sang…_

_“On the wind, ‘cross the sea,”_ Elo sang quietly. _“Hear this song and remember…”_

Wakko and Dot joined in; Wakko’s voice shook, Dot’s hitched awkwardly and Elo’s nearly gave out entirely. _"_ _Soon you’ll be home with me,”_ they all sang. _“Once upon a December.”_

The song stopped and the box slowly closed. Dot sobbed, a big beaming, lovely smile on her face. _“Yakko,”_ was all she said.

“Hi sibs,” Yakko said shakily. Before he could even blink, Wakko and Dot threw themselves at him and they all three fell off the ottoman and onto the floor, clinging to each other. He managed to push himself onto his knees, holding them both on his lap. Dot sobbed against his shoulder, her fingertips digging into his back.

“Don’t go,” Wakko pleaded. “Don’t go, please don’t go.”

  
“‘Course not,” Yakko said, rocking them back and forth, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. “I’m not going anywhere.” He couldn’t have moved, he couldn’t have let go if he’d been paid to. He couldn’t imagine ever letting go of them again. He _wasn’t_ going to let go of them again; not ever, not for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone 💕
> 
> Up next, we'll see what was/is going on in Scratchy's mind (as well as a mini-flashback to Wakko losing his shit at the threatre) and lots of Warner siblings bonding ❤❤


	11. The Warner Brothers (And The Warner Sister)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family reminisce, and find out where exactly Yakko's been all these years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter: sibling content and Yakko explaining what exactly happened to him. Dot and Wakko have entered Protective Sibling Mode

_“We're Yakko, Wakko and Dot! We've givin' it all we've got!”_ \- Wakko’s Wish

  
  
  


Yakko wasn’t sure he’d ever cried so hard before, let alone for a _happy_ reason. He couldn’t bring himself to move; he knelt on the floor, holding his siblings on his lap, all three of them teary messes and clinging to each other. He wasn’t sure how long he knelt there before there was a quiet knock on the door and Nurse’s surprisingly timid voice; “Wakko, Dot? ...Yakko? Are you in there?”

It was with great effort that Yakko got to his feet, both siblings still clinging to him; Wakko linked their arms and Dot clung to his pant-leg. He unlocked the door; Nurse and Scratchy stood there. Nurse’s hand was raised, poised to knock again.

Nurse immediately pulled him into a hug, smoothing down his fur. “Welcome home,” she said. “Oh, darling, welcome home.” She stepped back, still cupping his face in her hands, smiling at him. “Look at you,” she said gently. “You’ve gotten so big.”

Scratchy looked nervous, Yakko thought. When Yakko looked at him, the man seemed to shrink.

“Scratchy-”

“I’m sorry,” their godfather blurted out. “I’m so sorry.” Before Yakko could say anything, Scratchy hugged him tightly, so tightly it hurt, nearly lifting Yakko off his feet. He thought he heard something crack. 

“You don’t-”

“I let go,” Scratchy said, voice breaking.

“Not now, Otto,” Nurse said, somewhat gently, somewhat warningly. She glanced into the room behind the Warners and her eyes dimmed when she noticed the suitcase, but she still managed a smile. “Grab that,” she said. “We’re going home.”

The case wasn’t at all heavy, but Scratchy insisted on carrying it. Yakko tucked the music box into his pocket, holding tightly to Wakko and Dot’s hands as they trooped down the stairs. The gaping maids and butlers all hastily curtsied and bowed (and boy that would take a lot of getting used to), and at the end of the stairs stood Pinky and Brain.

Yakko hurried past before either of them could speak.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Scratchy hadn’t expected Wakko to start shouting; he was usually such a mellow child. Mischievous, yes, but never quick to anger.

If it hadn’t been for Wakko losing his temper, Scratchy thought in despair, they may have missed Yakko. But Wakko had indeed lost his temper, rather spectacularly.

“I _know_ him!” Wakko had shouted, back at the theatre. He jumped for the door and one of the guards took him by the arm.

“Your Highness-”

Wakko immediately hit the man with a mallet, right between his legs, fangs bared. The guard released him immediately, doubled over and pale as death from the pain, unable to even groan. The other guard immediately backed away when Wakko turned his furious gaze on him.

“Wow, Wak,” Dot said, eyes wide. She tucked her own mallet away, looking at her brother like he’d lost his mind. For a moment, Scratchy was worried that he may have- but overall he was just angry at Wakko for lashing out in such a manner.

_“Wakko Warner!”_ Scratchy yelled. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders, trying to keep him in place. “Vat in ze world’s gotten into you?”

Wakko glared at him, chin up, defiant. “That’s the mouse that saved us, Scratchy!” he snapped. He pulled himself free from Scratchy’s grasp and swung the door open. “That’s the mouse that saved us, he might really have Yakko!” He raced down the corridor, Dot right on his heels. Heloise ran after them and for a moment Scratchy felt frozen.

He remembered the mouse that saved them; a tiny fellow in a servant’s uniform. What were the odds, truly? Surely it couldn’t really be that very same servant.

_I worked in the palace,_ the mouse had said. Scratchy ran after his wards and friend, and when he saw the boy- _Yakko, great god above, he looked exactly like Yakko-_ it felt like the floor was collapsing from under him. Surely, after five years of heartbreak, it wouldn’t be this easy now?

Somehow, it was.

It felt like a miracle to Scratchy. He sat in the back of his car, with all three of his godchildren huddled close as they went home. Scratchy was afraid to blink. Was it a dream? If he looked away, would Yakko be gone again when he looked back? Wakko and Dot were clinging to their brother, and Yakko held onto them just as tightly. Scratchy kept a hand on Yakko’s shoulder and allowed himself to feel relief, to be happy and content. He could worry tomorrow; he could acknowledge his old guilt tomorrow. They could all ask questions tomorrow. For now, he was happy to sit with his godchildren, safe in the knowledge that all three of them were where they belonged.

Still, he had to admit there was a new wave of guilt when he watched Yakko look around Scratchy’s estate with obvious awe. Once, these sights would have been normal to the crown prince, taken for granted. Now he looked surprised by every little thing. _Where were you?_ Scratchy wondered.

He didn’t know yet, where Yakko had been, nor how he’d come to be in the company of two former servants. Only days ago, he would have said that only death would have prevented Yakko from returning sooner- why else would he not come home? But clearly something had happened. Something had kept Yakko away; something had turned riches and beauty into strangers for the young prince. When Heloise’s servants had bowed he’d seemed flustered, confused by what they were doing.

But for tonight, Scratchy would not press him. No, tonight he would leave Yakko be and let the Warners get some much needed rest.

When he finally returned to his own rooms, he looked at the picture of himself, Angelina and William on his bedside table. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked the photo up and smiled.

“He’s home, my friends,” Scratchy whispered. “They’re safe. I vill not let Salazar touch them.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The servants were all rushing around, bowing and curtsying deeply whenever they spoke to Yakko and Dot thought her brother looked completely baffled by the attention. 

“We can prepare a room for you, Your Majesty,” one of the maids said. “It should only take a short while.”

Dot didn’t like the sound of that, thank you very much. It seemed Yakko didn’t either, because his grip on her and Wakko tightened.

“I’d rather stay with Wakko and Dot,” he said. Wakko pressed in even closer to Yakko.

“We can go to my room,” Wakko said, and that was that. They trooped into Wakko’s room (and Dot rolled her eyes at the mess: clothes and toys scattered about, not to mention the snacks). Scratchy waved the servants away, letting them get ready for bed in peace. He looked reluctant to leave them, but after plenty more hugs and many assurances that Scratchy was just down the hall and they could come and wake him for any reason, they were finally left alone.

The three of them cuddled up together on Wakko’s bed, Yakko in the middle. Dot rested her head on his shoulder and Wakko rested on Yakko’s chest, his ear pressed right against Yakko’s heart. Their brother had an arm around them both, gently running a hand through their fur the way he always used to do.

“I missed you,” Dot whispered and Yakko’s grip momentarily tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t remember.” They’d have to ask about all that, she knew, but that could wait until tomorrow. There would be plenty of tears and explanations and apologies tomorrow, but for tonight she just wanted to lie down with her brothers, the happiest she’d been in five years.

At first she didn’t even want to close her eyes. She wanted to stay awake all night and watch her brothers, make sure they were both there and _staying_ there. Wakko fell asleep first, curled up small and half on top of Yakko. Way after midnight, Dot started to lose the battle against sleep. Yakko’s eyes were closed, but he still kept that steady pace on their backs, wide awake. Slowly, still half-heartedly fighting against it, Dot closed her eyes.

As she fell asleep, she said three little words her brother hadn’t heard in five years: “I love you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Wakko woke up first, which was usually pretty rare. He woke with a start, half-panicking, certain it was all just a dream- but then he realised who exactly he was lying on top of, who was managing to sleep through Dot snoring right in his ear, and Wakko wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or start crying again. Maybe both. 

_Yakko was home._ Yakko was right there, fast asleep in Wakko’s bed, half-crushed by Wakko lying on top of him. Wakko’s tail started to wag of its own accord and he lay down again, clutching his brother. He made up his mind, right there, to not let Yakko out of his sight _ever._

Dot kept snoring, but Yakko slowly woke up, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the ceiling. Feeling oddly shy, Wakko spoke up; “Hi, big bro.”

Yakko looked as startled as Wakko had when he woke up, but when he looked at Wakko his whole face softened into a smile. Wakko’s tail started to wag again, and Yakko lightly tugged on Wakko’s ear teasingly.

“Morning,” Yakko said. He looked at Wakko’s red cap and smirked. “You _still_ sleep with that on?”

“It’s my thing!” Wakko protested.

“I thought that was eating stuff?” Yakko teased, laughing when Wakko blew a raspberry at him. The noise woke Dot up and she sleepily swatted at them.

“Knock it off,” she protested, eyes still closed.

“Rude,” Yakko said. Wakko poked at her until she opened her eyes. She gave them her best grumpy look, but couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds; she was quickly grinning with them, clinging to them both tightly. 

None of them were in a hurry to move. Wakko had no complaints.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When they went down to breakfast, Yakko had to resist the urge to ask where Pinky and Brain were. It was just Scratchy sitting at the huge table and Yakko’s eyes widened at the sight of so much food. He thought guiltily of the orphanage. 

It was crazy to think that, only five years ago, the sight of an utter feast for breakfast was normal to him. A part of him argued that it _was_ normal but the rest of him, the Elo part of him, had no idea where to even start.

He felt like a fish out of water, and he felt right at home. It was weird. 

He sat between his siblings, took some coffee and nibbled on some toast, eyeing the pancakes, porridge, bacon, sausages and eggs warily. Was he supposed to just help himself? He supposed so. There was even a fruit platter, orange juice, different types of teas and coffees, milk, water, apple juice and so many different spreads for the toast that it seemed insane. 

Even as he felt out of his depth, a part of him was close to shrugging it off, old memories flooding back. Yakko fought that urge to brush it away; if he brushed it away he stood the chance of forgetting the last five years, of brushing aside the hungry kids he’d known and he refused to let this get to his head.

Yakko wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t going to be all smooth sailing. This, _all_ of this, was going to take a lot of adjusting.

“Yakko?” Scratchy cleared his throat; he looked highly uncomfortable. “I know it is early, and I know this is all...a lot, ja? But...Where were you? Vat happened?”

“You said you didn’t remember?” Dot prompted. 

“I didn’t remember anything,” Yakko said. “I didn’t even remember my name. They just called me Elo at the orphanage.”

“Orphanage?” Scratchy’s frown deepened; he looked so _sad._ Yakko almost thought he should sugar-coat things. He should _definitely_ keep things light around Wakko and Dot.

He shrugged, taking a gulp of coffee. “Orphanage,” he confirmed. “I was found wandering around and when I couldn’t say who I was or who my family was, I was brought to the orphanage. It wasn’t _too_ bad at first, but they started running out of money really fast. Too many kids, not enough staff- and the staff that _was_ there resented the job. The older kids ended up looking after the younger ones for the most part.” He looked at their devastated faces and deflated. “I really didn’t remember anything,” he said. “It was just...What I was used to.” He'd keep it light, he decided. Wakko and Dot didn't need to hear about the matrons in all their awful glory.

“And how did you come to be in the company of Pinky and Brain?” Scratchy asked, a bit more quietly. Yakko flinched at the sound of their names. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, it _hurt._ It hurt badly.

They’d lied to him the whole time. How was he supposed to go about forgiving them?

“Well, funny story,” Yakko said, forcing his tone to be light and airy. “I was meant to go work for Plotz, but I decided not to.” He held his pendant out. “I decided to head here instead. There were two toons, Rita and Runt; they said I should see Br- them about getting a train ticket.”

“You were meant to work for _Plotz!?_ ” Dot sounded utterly indignant, slamming her hands onto the table. “That _crook?_ ”

“Ja, I believe _he_ is meant to work for _you,_ Yakko,” Scratchy said coldly. He clasped his hands tightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching at the sound of Plotz’s name.

Plotz working for him. Now _there_ was a crazy idea. Yakko snickered as a thought hit him: he’d love to see the look on Plotz’s face when he realised his runaway servant was actually the missing prince.

“Vat is funny?” Scratchy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

_“Plotz,”_ Yakko chuckled. “Oh man. He and a guard showed up on the train- I just-” He started to laugh in earnest. “Imagine his stupid face when he hears who I am!”

Scratchy rolled his eyes, but Wakko and Dot burst out laughing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


After breakfast, they gathered in Scratchy’s room. He pulled out old boxes; pictures of their parents, pictures of them as children, old gifts they had given him. 

“I drew that one!” Dot said, happily showing the drawing to Yakko. She’d only been three when she drew it. It was the three of them, rather crudely drawn, all hugging Scratchy. She’d written, in pink crayon, _We will miss you!_ Her writing at the time was crooked and took up most of the page; some letters were bigger than others. 

“We look like blobs,” Wakko said flatly. Dot threw a pillow at him.

Yakko looked curiously at each and every thing, holding them like they were priceless, be they drawings, an old and frayed friendship bracelet, Christmas tree ornaments they had made, or photos. One photo, in a gold frame, was of Angelina and William sitting on a sofa, with toddler-Yakko next to William, baby-Wakko on William’s lap and a newborn Dot in Angelina’s arms.

“I remember them now,” Yakko said quietly. Dot and Wakko scooted closer to him; Wakko offered him a square of chocolate, which their brother nibbled on absentmindedly as they looked through the piles of photos that Scratchy had.

“They vould not vant us to be sad,” Scratchy said. “Not now ve are all together.”

Dot knew he was right, but it was still sad to look at her parents smiling faces and know that they weren’t coming home. 

But they’d found Yakko. They’d _finally_ found Yakko. She hoped that William and Angelina would be happy, that they’d be proud. They’d have to be proud of Yakko, surely, Dot thought. She didn’t know many princes who could go from being on top of the world to living in a run-down orphanage, living under a tyrant, and still come out fighting. She hoped they’d be proud of her and Wakko, and of Scratchy. 

She really hoped they could see this.

She zoned back in when Yakko burst out laughing. He was looking at a picture of Wakko’s first birthday; Wakko had smashed the cake, and everyone in the photo was covered in frosting and chunks of cake. Wakko was smiling, cheeks bulging with cake; in the photo, Yakko was pointing and laughing, a big glob of frosting on his nose and dripping off his ears. The photographer had snapped the photo at the perfect moment: barring Yakko and Wakko, the guests (their parents included) looked stunned and horrified.

“You have your mother’s laugh,” Scratchy said fondly. He patted Yakko on the head and took down a box from a shelf in his closet. It was a rather large box, polished so it almost seemed to shine. Scratchy set the box down on his vanity and helped Yakko to his feet.

Dot had a sneaking suspicion she knew what was in that box. She and Wakko accepted Scratchy’s hand up, and the three of them stood by as he unlocked the box.

Inside was a gold and diamond circlet, resting on purple velvet. It was one she’d only seen Scratchy wear in photographs and official court portraits.

“I think this would look better on you than me,” Scratchy said. Yakko’s eyes were wide, but he allowed Scratchy to slip the circlet into place on his head. His hand rose, lingering centimetres from the precious metal. 

_‘Wow,’_ he mouthed, staring at his reflection. Dot took his left hand, and Yakko immediately lowered his other hand so Wakko could take hold of it.

Scratchy was watching them proudly. “You have your mother’s laugh,” he repeated gently. “And you’re as handsome as your father was.”

The three of them stood hand in hand, looking into the mirror. Yakko straightened up, shoulders back, and Dot thought that her funny waif of a brother looked like a king.

“Wow,” Yakko said, loud and clear this time. “Talk about bizarre.”

Dot tugged on his arm until he bent down to her level. “Yeah, Dot?” he asked. Smiling, Dot bumped their noses together, nuzzling until he laughed.

“We’re all bizarre!” she chirped. 

“Yeah,” Wakko said, chest puffed out. “We’re the Warner brothers!”

_“And_ the Warner sister.”

“God help us,” Scratchy said dryly, but he was smiling. Grinning, Yakko straightened the circlet when it slipped. He looked at his reflection with a wry smile, but when he looked at their joined hands his smile was much more sincere. The sight alone seemed to make him more confident.

Dot understood. It made her feel better too.

“Totally insane-y,” Yakko said proudly, and winked at Scratchy. “But everyone loves us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, kind of considering a sequel of sorts? Basically snippets covering some of their lives when this story ends (adjusting, some deleted scenes, etc.) I've only a few ideas, but it could be fun! 💕
> 
> Up next: Scratchy talks with Pinky and the Brain. Salazar plans his next move


	12. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scratchy has a chat with Pinky and Brain.  
> Brain has a realisation about what Yakko's return truly means, and perhaps Yakko is willing to let them back in after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a massive thank you to you all for the lovely feedback, I really appreciate it 💕
> 
> Songs I listened to while writing this chapter:  
> The Hanging Tree, from The Hunger Games  
> Ready As I'll Ever Be, from Tangled (the series)  
> (^ mostly for Plotz's POV in the first part)  
> On My Own, by Ashes Remain  
> You Will Be Found, from Dear Evan Hansen  
> Dust And Gold, by Arrows To Athens

_“Please tell me what is right, ‘cause it's more than what's inside. ‘Cause I can't see it anymore. All I see are kings and thieves, when all I own is just dust and gold.”_ \- Arrows To Athens

  
  
  


One of the guards, a tall man with sandy blonde hair, handed Salazar the morning’s newspaper. He looked petrified, Plotz thought. Which was fair enough. They’d all heard the news and now the headline confirmed it: _MISSING PRINCE FOUND!_

They all watched Salazar warily as he read. He almost looked amused. _Almost._ There was far too much anger in his eyes.

“Do you like parties, gentlemen?” he asked idly.

“Oh yeah,” Ralph said, nodding eagerly. The Captain nodded as well, looking much more concerned than Ralph.

“Lovely,” Salazar said. “Then we shall attend.” He set the paper down; it was upside down from Plotz’s position, and he could see the big photo of Yakko and his siblings on the front page. There were so many photos scattered throughout the article; a photo of the siblings before Salazar’s coup, individual photos of them, a group photo of the three of them and the Duke. Clearly, the press were enjoying this.

Ralph seemed to have completely forgotten what they were really here for. “There’s lotsa new dances!” he said. “My son showed me! There’s one where you go all _wriggly_ and-”

“We’ll let the Warners have their last hurrah,” Salazar said, seemingly not hearing Ralph at all. “And then we’ll kill them.”

Instantly, Ralph dropped. “Oh,” he said, disappointed. “No party?”

The Captain looked uncomfortable. He glanced at the photos of the Warners and gulped. “Aw man,” he said uneasily. “They’re just _kids,_ man.”

“They’re vermin,” Salazar said. He snapped his fingers and the paper blackened and crumpled, turning to ash before their eyes despite there being no fire. “And they will be disposed of as such.” He glared the Captain down. “ _Won’t they,_ Captain?”

The Captain still looked openly reluctant, but he nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“We’ll kill those three brats once and for all,” Salazar said. “With luck, maybe we’ll even get the Duke too.”

The Captain shifted uneasily, but didn’t say anything; Ralph’s eyes flickered about nervously. Plotz couldn’t read the looks on the other guards’ faces at all, but they certainly didn’t look concerned. 

As for himself, he knew this was the right thing to do. Yakko was fourteen, he reminded himself. The boy was old enough to rule in his own right. The mystery that had surrounded his disappearance had only made him even more popular. With Yakko returned, the Warners’ supporters in Burbank could arrange a coup of their own at last. Trying to put Wakko on the throne had been a possibility, but one they’d clearly been reluctant to do without knowing for sure what had become of Yakko- and Wakko was only eleven. They’d still need a regent until he was fourteen, and Plotz knew that would only cause more uncertainty, another power vacuum. He wasn’t new to politics. 

This was the right thing to do. For pity’s sake, the boy had thrown _dynamite_ at him and Ralph! He was dangerous!

He was fourteen.

Somehow, that didn’t quite sound like a justification.

Truth be told, the ill, desperate look on the King’s face was only concerning Plotz more and more.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They hadn’t seen Yakko since the truth was revealed; it had been three days and Pinky was starting to feel truly desperate. Did Yakko hate them? Was he angry? 

He hated not knowing for sure. They’d been staying in Nurse’s house (“It’s best to give him and his siblings some space,” Nurse had said, and Brain had agreed), but now they were having a big ball tonight and they’d been invited (they’d received formal invitations, on fancy cream cards with gold writing, so swirly that Pinky had to get Brain to read them), and they’d see Yakko and Pinky felt sick. What if Yakko was still angry?

_“I hate you!”_ he’d screamed. What if he really did? 

Pinky knew he wasn’t all that smart, but he sure _felt_ stupid now. He especially felt stupid when Duke Scratchansniff summoned them to his estate. It was only down the road from Nurse’s house, but the walk seemed to stretch on forever. Even Brain didn’t look totally confident as they approached.

The guards at the gates let them in straight away; a butler was waiting for them by the front doors. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said with a smile and small bow. It was weird, Pinky thought; the servants at least seemed to _like_ him and Brain. They’d thanked him and Brain for bringing Yakko home.

They didn’t know it had started as a con, Pinky reflected guiltily. Otherwise he was sure they’d be angry too.

The butler led them upstairs, straight to Scratchansniff’s private office. Brain looked around eagerly at all the books and Pinky bit his lip, wringing his hands as Scratchansniff stared at them from behind the desk. Pinky and Brain climbed up the two blue chairs; there was a pile of pillows on each one, putting them on eye-level with the desk.

There was a huge open box on the desk; the box alone would be worth a fortune, engraved with gold and studded with emeralds. Inside shone more gold than Pinky had ever seen in one place.

“Ten million gold pieces,” Scratchansniff said, gesturing to the gold. “As promised.” He looked them over and something about him seemed to soften. “Along with my sincere gratitude, gentlemen.” He pushed his thick glasses further up his nose. “You saved all our lives zat night,” he said, looking at Brain. “And now you have brought Yakko home to us. I...Cannot thank you enough, really.” He looked down at his clasped hands and glanced at the gold pieces. “I vill have a member of staff assist with packing it,” he said. “Any help you need, just say so, und it vill be done. Anything you vant, you vill have.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Brain said stiffly. He glanced and Pinky; Pinky nodded and Brain turned back to Scratchansniff. “But we don’t want your money.”

Scratchansniff was clearly surprised, sitting up straighter and frowning, glancing at the gold uncertainly and between them both like he expected them to laugh at him. “Nein? Vat do you vant? Just say and it vill be yours.”

“Nothing, zoit,” Pinky said, slumping in his seat. _Not unless you can make Yakko our friend again._

“Vhy ze change of mind?”

“It was more like…” Brain hesitated, frowning uncomfortably. After a moment, he sighed. “It was more like a change of heart,” he admitted. Pinky knew that Brain wasn’t the best with emotions, especially when it came to explaining what he was feeling, but Scratchansniff seemed to understand because he was smiling.

“I see,” he said softly. “Vell. Ze offer stands, ja? If you need or vant anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Brain said. Pinky echoed him and Scratchansniff waved his permission for them to go.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“We should leave after this party,” Brain said as they made their way back to the stairs. Pinky didn’t have it in him to argue.

“Where’re we gonna go, Brain?”

“Back to Acme Falls I suppose,” Brain said. He frowned more and more as they walked. “Rita saw it right away, I’m sure of it,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “She must have. She sent him our way for a reason.”

That just made Pinky feel even stupider. Rita had spoken with Yakko for a few minutes, if that, and she’d seen something they hadn’t. _Maybe Rita should have come along,_ Pinky thought miserably. _Bet she’d have done everything right._

He felt _very_ stupid indeed when they ran into Yakko, Wakko and Dot half-way down the stairs.

They were dressed for the party later that night and they looked like something from a fairytale. Dot wore a beautiful pink and silver dress with a diamond tiara and matching diamond necklace and bracelets. Wakko still wore his red hat, but he was now in a deep-blue suit with a jeweled brooch of the Warner symbol, and a ruffled necktie, which was already coming loose. Yakko looked so _different,_ Pinky thought. His too-big rags were long gone. Now he was in a long emerald green suit-coat with gold buttons and embroidery, and black pants that finally fit properly, a shining gold crown on his head. All three of them still wore their star pendants.

Despite the fancy clothes, the three of them were running around and swinging off the bannister, the chandelier, and even off the frantic-looking maids and attendants. Nurse watched them quietly, a mix of amused and tired. Wakko pulled out a bucket of water balloons and Nurse finally spoke up.

“Children, please don’t ruin your clothes,” she said, a warning edge to her voice. Pinky barely heard her: Yakko had spotted them, and the little prince froze, eyes wide.

“Hello,” Pinky said.

“Hello,” Yakko said stiffly. He twisted his pendant around his hand. For a moment, his face softened, he took a tiny step forward, but he quickly glanced away. “Did you collect your reward?”

“Our business is complete,” Brain said. Pinky wanted to stomp on his foot, because once he said that, Yakko’s face twisted in a scowl.

“You look lovely,” Pinky offered. Wakko and Dot crept closer to their brother, watching Pinky and Brain curiously. Yakko looked surprised by the compliment, softening again. He looked at Pinky and Brain’s suits, given to them by Nurse and something like a smile crossed his face.

“You too,” he said. Nurse smiled, looking relieved, but a guard spoke up impatiently.

“Excuse me, but you will bow to the king,” he said. “And address him as Your Majesty.”

“Hold up,” Yakko said quickly. “It’s fine, really and-” He blinked rapidly. _“King?”_

“The rightful king,” the guard said, bowing low when Yakko looked at him. Even Wakko and Dot looked uncomfortable at the reminder. Dot took her brother’s hand and Wakko clung to Yakko’s jacket.

“Well, I’m not king right now, am I?” Yakko demanded icily. “So it’s fine.” Pinky thought he sure _looked_ like a king. Did Pinky even have the right to be proud? 

“Your Majesty,” Pinky said; he started to bow, but Yakko waved an impatient hand.

“It’s _fine,_ ” he insisted. He hesitated, always such a strange sight from Yakko, but before anything further could be said, one of Dot’s attendants rushed in.

“Apologies, my lords, my lady, but Countess Slappy and her nephew have arrived.”

“Duty calls,” Nurse said. She threw Pinky and Brain an apologetic glance and ushered the royal children to the door. Yakko glanced back; just before the door closed behind him, he gave them a small wave.

It wasn’t a lot, but it made Pinky feel better. Maybe Yakko didn’t hate them after all. Maybe they could talk later and try to sort things out.

_Maybe,_ Pinky thought. _We can stay._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Even Brain had to admit he felt more optimistic after their small interaction, such as it was. But the guard’s words had thrown him for a loop. _The king. The rightful king._ Yes, Brain had known that. He’d acknowledged it himself; it was one of the first things he’d realised, when Yakko’s identity was revealed.

But now he was worried about it.

_The rightful king._ Salazar had to have heard by now. The whole _world_ had heard by now. Back in Warnerstock, the people would hold private celebrations. He knew, deep down, that the rebels who had fallen silent would now be waiting. He knew that the Warners' supporters here in Burbank surely had a plan in place.

He doubted, with Yakko back, that things would stay quiet.

Only days ago, he would have shrugged it off. It had been a con, a chance for riches, to change their lives. A part of him had always known that, if it worked, whoever they claimed was Yakko would be thrust into the spotlight. That Salazar would be enraged. Brain hadn’t dwelled on it, he hadn’t cared.

But now…

Now it was _Yakko._ He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He blamed Pinky and Yakko for this. He did so hate _feeling_ things, it was so messy.

Perhaps they shouldn’t leave so soon after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As they went to greet Slappy, Yakko had to fight the urge to keep glancing back. The door was closed, and Pinky and Brain weren’t going to follow. They wouldn’t be allowed to anyway, not with them going to meet a Countess.

Okay, so he’d seen them and it hadn’t been totally awful. That was good. It was good, wasn’t it? It was _awkward_ and frankly he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, but…But he’d been happy to see them.

He wanted to stay angry, but it was a lot harder to do that when Pinky looked so sad, and Brain looked so uncertain. 

_It’s not a good look on them,_ Yakko thought. Despite knowing he’d just see an empty corridor, he still glanced back. 

He made up his mind. They’d be at this big shindig later as well, right? Yakko would have plenty of time to talk to them then and find out what was what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Warners vs Salazar


	13. Ready Or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some gatecrashers arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Salazar arrives and the group uses some toon chaos to fight back
> 
> I'm back in work tomorrow, RIP 😭

_“Now the line's in the sand, and our moment's at hand, and I'm ready. I'm ready, I'm ready- ready as I'll ever be.”_ \- Tangled: The Series

  
  
  


“Any news?” Scratchy asked. His secretary shook his head, bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“None, my lord,” he said, flipping through the latest letters. “The rumours are the same: King Salazar has taken ill and has not been seen in days.” He frowned, looking puzzled. “They say he has locked himself in his room, and the servants must pass in food through a flap in the door.” He allowed himself a small smile as he added, “However, the mood in Warnerstock has lightened. There’s rumours of the people holding private celebrations and giving thanks for His Majesty’s safety. The guards in Acme Falls had their hands full yesterday; a crowd of people marched through the streets shouting the Warners’ names.”

Scratchy hummed as he considered it all. “He must be seriously ill,” he mused. “Contagious perhaps.” At least if Salazar was ill that would buy them some peace and quiet for a while.

“Inform me as soon as you hear anything new,” Scratchy ordered. His secretary nodded and went back to his office to tuck his notes away. Scratchy headed downstairs in search of his godchildren, internally running through his speech for tonight.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The ballroom was crowded, and Yakko watched with his siblings, hidden behind thick purple curtains. Nobility mingled together, and he could see journalists and photographers. It looked exactly like the balls from his memories, returning at a rapid pace now, so quick it sometimes left him disoriented and dizzy. It wasn’t their palace, but a part of him still expected to see his parents among the crowd. He looked at the three empty thrones, just a stone’s throw away from him, Wakko and Dot, and expected to see two more; he expected William and Angelina to be sitting on the dais, waiting for them.

But it wasn’t William and Angelina waiting, it was an entire ballroom full of people, strangers, people he’d heard of but never met, and people he’d only met a handful of times when he was very small. The entire _world_ was waiting, and he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t freak him out. Yakko doubted he was what any of them expected, but then again, he never had been. It had never bothered him as a child and he refused to let it bother him now.

“There’s Skippy Squirrel,” Dot whispered, pointing to a brown squirrel, stuffing his face with sugared almonds. Dot smirked. “Going for the nuts as usual,” she said sweetly. Wakko doubled over laughing and Yakko had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle himself.

“Vat is funny?” Scratchy asked from right behind them. The three of them straightened up, startled and spun to face him.

“Nothing!” Dot said brightly, batting her eyelashes. Scratchy eyed them doubtfully, lips pursed, but he didn’t press it. He joined them in watching, his eyes roaming lazily over the crowd.

It was nearly six Yakko saw, peering at the big golden clock. He knew the plan off by heart: as the clock chimed six, Scratchy would introduce them; he’d make a speech about Yakko’s safe return and welcome him home. Then the curtains would be pulled back and Yakko, Wakko and Dot would take their seats on the thrones. They were on a strict promise to behave themselves; no hijinks tonight- which promised to make the whole thing deadly dull and boring if you asked Yakko. A whole night with no pranks? Scratchy owed them big time.

He leaned against the pillar and as he did, he caught sight of Pinky and Brain, chatting with Nurse, both of them standing on a table. His eyes widened when he realised what they were wearing.

_Oh,_ he thought. They were both wearing the lavender jackets he’d made. Despite himself, he smiled and immediately forced himself to frown again. They owed him an explanation and damn it all, he was going to get it. He wasn’t going to forgive them until they explained everything.

Scratchy saw where he was looking and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You should know,” he said quietly. “Zey did not take ze money.”

_“What?”_ all three Warners chorused. Dot ducked under Scratchy’s arm to get a better look at Pinky and Brain. Wakko looked surprised, but pleasantly so. Yakko’s ears perked up and a big grin split his face.

They hadn’t taken the money. _They hadn’t taken the money._

“I believe zey are sincere,” Scratchy said, straightening Yakko’s crown. “However it may have started, I think zey care, Yakko.” The clock chimed six, and Scratchy stepped out from behind the curtains to greet everyone and start his speech.

“What’cha gonna say to them?” Dot asked. The three of them were still looking at Pinky and Brain.

“I’m not sure yet,” Yakko admitted. “But- but I think it’ll be okay.”

Wakko gave his sleeve a sharp tug. “Yeah, Wak?”

“Did you see that?” Wakko asked. He was frowning at the big glass doors behind them, wide open and leading to Scratchy’s gardens. As far as Yakko could see, all was peaceful. Nothing looked out of place.

“No,” Yakko said. Wakko’s eyes narrowed, his tongue poking out more than ever.

“I thought I saw a light,” he said.

Dot looked surprised, hands on her hips. “They’re not meant to do the fireworks until later,” she said.

“I didn’t hear any fireworks,” Yakko said. He took a step forward curiously, but then Scratchy called their names and the three of them immediately jumped into place, smiling as the curtains were pulled back and the ballroom burst into cheers, shouts and applause.

If it was fireworks, Yakko couldn’t exactly blame the servants for being eager. If he was left alone with fireworks he knew he’d have fun with it too.

_Now there’s an idea,_ he thought, as he and his siblings took their seats. If there were any fireworks left after tonight, he’d _definitely_ get his hands on them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Plotz was sweating as they made their way towards Scratchansniff’s estate. Salazar’s spell had sent them to the back garden, at the entrance to the maze; the mansion was like a glowing beacon in the dark, lights in every window; the back doors were open, and Plotz could hear music and laughter.

He remembered the last ball that William and Angelina had thrown; it was a clear, cold night such as this. The palace had looked like something from a fairytale. All the courtiers knew there was danger approaching, though none of them understood just how quickly it was coming.

When Salazar won, Plotz swore fealty to him. When Angelina and William lay dead on the ground, Plotz saved himself.

It was only five years ago, but he thought that Salazar seemed much more desperate than he had then. Ever since he paid that mysterious price, he’d rapidly begun to seem more erratic. The dark circles under his eyes were only getting worse and worse.

“They’re _kids,_ man,” the Captain muttered. No one dared answer him. Salazar, his eyes trained on Scratchansniff’s estate, didn’t even seem to hear him. Plotz didn’t know what this _price_ was, but whatever it was, it was enough to frighten even Salazar.

And that, in turn, scared him.

He thought longingly of home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The party was in full swing. The Warners were the centre of attention, as Scratchy expected. The band was playing a jaunty tune (an old favourite of William’s to be exact), and the three siblings were dancing together near the middle of the room, hands joined. Yakko kept glancing down at his feet and Scratchy could see him mouthing the instructions to himself.

“They’re doing wonderfully,” Nurse said, watching them with a smile. Yakko, Wakko and Dot looked so happy that Scratchy couldn’t look away. Guards kept the journalists from getting too close to the siblings; Scratchy had made it known that any questions were to be directed at him or Nurse, not the children. On the table next to them, Brain sipped absentmindedly at a tiny glass of champagne while Pinky danced rather dramatically, “la-la-la”ing to himself.

It was going well, he thought. Very well indeed. Wakko caught him looking and waggled his tongue at him; Scratchy shook his head in mock-disapproval. Just as Countess Slappy approached there was a bright red flash and all the lights in the room died. The band stopped in confusion, the dancers halted; concerned murmurs broke out and then a piercing shriek rose above the din.

In seconds, everyone was screaming. Some people immediately ran for the exits.

Heart sinking, Scratchy turned to see King Salazar standing on the dais, with Baron Plotz and a small handful of guards. 

Immediately, Scratchy ran for the kids, Nurse, Pinky and Brain right on his heels, not to mention plenty of their own guards. He pushed the kids behind him, cursing the fact he was unarmed; he’d never been much of a fighter, but he’d have sold his soul for a sword right then.

King Salazar smiled. He certainly _looked_ ill, pale and drawn with terribly dark circles under his eyes, his previously thick wavy hair hanging in limp strands. His dark eyes sought out the Warners and his grin had a frantic edge to it.

“Your Highnesses,” he said, almost pleasantly. He looked directly at Yakko and gave a mocking bow. “ _Your Majesty._ It’s been far too long.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“You,”_ Yakko hissed, though he doubted Salazar could hear him, nor would the man care if he _did_ hear. Yakko’s fists clenched as he growled, fangs bared, fur bristling. Wakko and Dot were much the same, both growling, their fur standing on end.

_William hoisted Yakko up onto the horse and climbed on after him, holding him close. “Slowly now, son,” William cautioned. “We’ll take a few turns around the garden.”_

_Angelina laughed at the sight of Yakko and baby Wakko, both covered in paint, but she happily accepted the messy painting. Her stomach was huge, ready to give birth any day now. “It’s for the baby,” Yakko told her._ _Angelina tapped him and Wakko on the nose. “I’m sure the baby will love it,” she said._

This monster killed his parents. He’d killed so many innocent people the night he invaded, and many more after. And who knew how many he’d killed before the invasion?

You didn’t get dark magic from nowhere, Yakko knew that.

_“Guards!”_ Scratchy yelled and their guards all ran forward, swords all aimed at Salazar and his small group of men. It should have been easy, it should have been over in seconds, but Salazar only laughed. With a careless wave of his hand, there was a burst of magic from his clock pendant that sent the guards- and indeed, everyone in the ballroom- flying backwards. 

The windows all shattered and blood-red fire suddenly lined the walls, the flames nearly reaching the ceiling. Yakko, Wakko, Dot, Scratchy and Nurse, and Pinky and Brain all landed in a pile. Some party-goers slammed into the walls. Some got back up again, but others were unconscious. The doors were open and many ran, screaming. The guards’ swords had all melted, spilling to the ground like water.

Salazar began to laugh, surrounded by a red mist, by tiny versions of those awful monsters Yakko had seen in his nightmare. The big fat guard cringed back, looking terribly frightened. Plotz looked at the little monsters warily and another man wearing Salazar’s badge looked openly defiant. The others didn’t seem surprised at all.

They were such a small group, but clearly Salazar had some tricks up his sleeve.

Scratchy struggled to his feet, his nose bleeding. “How did you get here?” he demanded.

The little monsters began to laugh and Salazar’s smile finally wavered. He touched his glowing clock pendant.

“I paid a price,” he said and his eyes zeroed in on Yakko and his siblings. “Get them,” he ordered, and the monsters swooped down.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“GO!”_ Nurse screamed, pushing them to the doors. No one even tried to argue, not even the Warners; they all ran.

“Narf! What do we do?” Pinky cried.

“I’m trying to think,” Brain said, gritting his teeth. Damn it all, this was the man who’d claimed Warnerstock, the man who’d killed the King and Queen- how were they supposed to beat him?

“Think faster!” Dot barked, running hand in hand with her brothers. “They call you The Brain, right? So put that big head of yours to use!”

Well, he wasn’t sure what to do about those ungodly monsters just yet, but he had an idea for handling the human guards. He looked to Yakko with a smirk. “We can trip them,” he said.

Yakko grinned, mischievous and eager. “Let’s,” he agreed. They ran into a small side room; Scratchy, Nurse and Yakko pushed a bookcase and desk in front of the door.

“Trip zem?” Scratchy repeated. 

“Trip them,” Brain confirmed. “It’s worked for us before.” From the crack under the door, he saw the red light go sailing past. He heard shouting and thundering footsteps, frightened courtiers and party-goers, journalists who had no idea what was happening. “We’d best plan quickly.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Nurse thought this was madness. She crouched in the shadows on a side porch with Yakko; across from them were Scratchy and Dot. Wakko was at the bottom of the stairs in the garden, waiting for them to send the guards flying, and Brain and Pinky stood on the porch itself, fully visible in the light. 

Hurried footsteps approached and Pinky began to jump up and down, waving his arms. “Yoo-hoo!” he called. “Big ugly guards! Over here!” He turned and waved his rear at them, blowing a raspberry.

“Yes, over here, you ignorami,” Brain said, much more flatly. “Are you so short-sighted you can’t see us?”

The guards, three of them, clearly weren’t intimidated by a pair of tiny mice. One of them however, chuckled.

“Ah, you two,” he said. “Alright.” He aimed his sword at them. “Tell us where the Warner brats are and we won’t hurt you.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Brain said. “On the contrary, _we_ shall have to hurt _you._ ” The guards laughed at him, but at Brain’s nod Pinky started to frantically throw summoned objects: a small mallet, rocks, a book, a smelly boot and, finally, a pie as big as Nurse’s head. The guards managed to duck them all, but the tallest one slipped on the banana peel that Brain placed by his feet and landed on his rear with yelp.

Blushing scarlet, the guards faced the mice with their weapons drawn.

“Oh forget this,” the shortest guard snarled. They ran and Pinky and Brain, who immediately raced down the stairs. The guards ran after them and that was when Nurse, Yakko, Dot and Scratchy pulled on the rope.

Their startled shrieks were glorious, but Nurse wouldn’t admit that out loud.

The guards were sent flying down the stairs, tumbling over themselves and they rolled straight into the massive safe that Wakko had summoned. The prince sat on top of it and, grinning, slammed it shut. Pinky laughed and snorted while Brain looked on in quiet amusement. The guards immediately began to shout and bang on the door.

Nurse looked at it warily.

“Don’t worry!” Wakko said brightly. He slapped the roof of the safe and jumped off. “It has air holes.”

“Oh,” Nurse said. “That’s okay then.”

“Three down,” Yakko said, arms folded. “Five nut-cases to go.” The three Warners pushed the safe into the trees; the guards were still shouting inside, but at least the blasted thing was out of sight.

Although the kids were clearly frightened, they still smiled eagerly. “So what’s next?” Yakko asked.

“Vat’s next,” Scratchy said sternly. “Is ve get you three out of here.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sneaking past five people should have been easy; it was that strange magic mist that mostly concerned Brain. What if they walked right into it? What would happen? His one consolation was that they were in the heart of Burbank; this wasn’t a country under invasion, and some party guests surely made it off Scratchaniff’s land by now? With any luck, law enforcement was on its way.

Then again, Brain had never believed in pure luck or chance. They’d have to make their own luck. Three down, five to go, not to mention Salazar’s magic.

As they sneaked through the eerily silent corridors, Brain thought of Salazar’s pendant and pondered. If they wanted to survive tonight, he was sure they’d have to dispose of the wretched thing. The question remained: _how?_

  
  
  
  
  
  


They rounded the corner and came upon quite the odd sight: Countess Slappy and her nephew Skippy, carrying a tied up and gagged guard between them. The guard was out cold, a lump the size of an orange on his head, poking out of his sandy-blonde hair. The Captain’s second in command, Brain recognised him from his patrols back in Acme Falls.

Slappy looked almost unbearably smug and Skippy whistled a tune. 

“Well, that was fun,” Slappy said. Wakko opened a supply closet and they unceremoniously threw the guard inside. Slappy closed the door and straightened her hat.

“That guy was really fast,” Skippy said earnestly.

“We were faster,” Slappy said with a smirk. She looked their group over and her eyes narrowed at the sight of the royals. “What are you three still doing here?” she demanded. “That Saladbar sap wants you dead!”

“Ve are getting zem out now,” Scratchy said, slightly impatiently.

Slappy was looking at something over their shoulders. “Better be quick,” she said and pointed. “Because here comes trouble.”

A horde of the tiny red monsters were flying down the corridor, their clawed hands scraping at the thin air. When they spotted their group, they let out a horrible high-pitched shriek of triumph and surged forward.

“Uh oh,” Pinky said.

They all ran as fast as their legs could carry them. To Brain’s surprise, Yakko stooped down as he ran and plucked Pinky and him off the ground, depositing them on his narrow shoulders. Pinky immediately smiled, but Brain didn’t allow himself to feel relief. Not yet. First they had a maniac to dispose of and then, if all went well, they’d have all the time they needed to properly talk.

“We need to get rid of Salazar’s pendant,” Brain said as they sharply turned a corner. “That was where the magic shot out of in the first place. Without it, he won’t be able to perform any spells.”

“And how do we do that?” Slappy demanded.

“I’m not sure yet,” Brain was forced to admit. “But I’ll think of something.”

As they ran down a flight of stairs, Yakko suddenly cried out, “The fireworks!”

_“Vat!?”_ Scratchansniff panted as he ran. “Vat about zem?”

Yakko grinned, eyes bright. “I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fireworks 😉


	14. Long Live The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After five years, the Warners face Salazar at last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist, it was mostly done anyway. Here we go, lads!
> 
> Also, consider this...  
> Yakko: What're we having for dinner?  
> Pinky: Tonight I'm serving LOOKS!  
> Brain: We haven't eaten in two days!
> 
> *
> 
> Songs I listened to for this chapter:
> 
> Radioactive, by Imagine Dragons  
> Warriors, by Imagine Dragons  
> Castle, by Halsey  
> Emperor's New Clothes by Panic! At The Disco  
> Titanium, by Madilyn Bailey (cover)  
> Still/The Neva Flows (Reprise) from Anastasia: Broadway

__

_“And the Neva flows, a new wind blows, and soon it will be spring.”_ \- Anastasia: Broadway

  
  
  


It didn’t take long for the red monsters to start lashing out. They shrieked in fury, sending out bursts of magic as they gave chase, streams of red fire flying across the floor and walls. 

The worst part, Scratchy thought, was that they had no idea how to fight the little beasts. They could only run and hope to escape them. As they ran, Slappy half-heartedly suggested splitting up, but no one liked that idea. Wakko and Yakko knocked down furniture in their wake, threw chairs over their shoulders in the hopes of slowing the monsters down. It did little good. The red mass split apart when the chairs hit it and reformed, screeching louder than ever.

They sprinted down the corridor, heading towards the back of the estate once more.

“To your left!” Scratchy cried, and their rag-tag group followed his instructions, running to the left, towards the side-doors. Scratchy flung them open. “Go, go!” he cried, ushering everyone ahead. Once Skippy jumped past him, he slammed the doors shut and they all raced into the gardens, towards the maze. He heard glass shatter behind them and knew the monsters still gave chase.

Perhaps running into the maze was not the best idea- then again, perhaps it was the only place to hide.

They ran in, all of them following Scratchy’s orders (“Left, right, straight ahead, right, _right!”_ ) and, _finally,_ the screeches grew distant. Their group ended up in a dead-end, huddled together, watching the path with wide eyes, bracing themselves for the worst.

It didn’t come. All was silent. Scratchy sighed in relief just as a scream of utter fury echoed throughout the maze. It was so loud, so piercing, that he clapped his hands over his ears. The scream fell silent and he was left with his head ringing. His companions looked as shaken as he felt.

As they watched, the red mass shot straight into the air and flew back to the estate.

Finally, they could breathe again.

Sighing, rubbing his forehead, he turned to Yakko. “Vell then?” he asked. “Vat vas your idea?” He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

He was right. He hated it, but so did Wakko and Dot.

“We’re not leaving you alone!” Dot protested.

“I’ll be fine,” Yakko insisted.

“He won’t be alone,” Brain spoke up. He looked at Yakko from the corner of his eye, cautious and surprisingly quiet. “Pinky and I will be with him.”

Scratchy was further surprised when Yakko nodded and agreed. “Exactly,” he said. “I’ll have them with me. You guys just need to wait for me to give the signal.” He tapped his chin, frowning. “Anyone got a pen and paper?”

Slappy summoned some and handed it to him. Yakko quickly drew a rough outline of the gardens and held it out to Scratchy. “Can you draw the maze?”

Frowning, Scratchy did. Yakko marked down Xs in the centre of the maze.

“That’s where we’ll put them,” he said. “If we aim right, we can bring down that statue in the centre- even if it doesn’t hit Saladbar the whole place will go up in smoke!”

“At the very least,” Brain said. “It’s a good chance to try and get his pendant.”

“And _we_ know how to get back out,” Slappy said, looking thoughtful. “Those idiots will be stuck in a bunch of fire and we can vamoose. With any luck, anyone who's got out’s already alerted the local guards. Reinforcement should be on its way by now.”

“And outwitting that big guard won’t exactly be hard,” Yakko added.

“Ralph,” Brain said. “His name is Ralph.”

“Whatever his name is, he’s dumber than advertised.” 

Slappy snorted in amusement. “You’ve got nerve, kid,” she said in approval.

“You’re insane,” Scratchy said. “I do not approve.”

“No offence, Scratchy, but you don’t have to.” Yakko put Brain and Pinky and his shoulders and stood. When he looked at his siblings his resolve seemed to weaken, especially when they clung to him.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” he whispered to them. 

“We’ll be holding you to that, young man,” Nurse said. “Or being grounded will be the least of your worries.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Wakko was all for blasting fireworks, but not while Yakko ran off alone. He hated this. He gathered the fireworks from the supply shed with everyone else, his tail dragging behind him. Yakko helped them set up, but once it was all ready he ran off, Pinky and Brain clinging to his shoulders.

Scratchy kept grumbling about how much he didn’t like this. Slappy told him to button it and get ready.

“We’ve got one shot,” she reminded them. “So let’s make this count.”

Wakko watched him go and his heart began to pound faster and faster. Nuh-uh. No. No way. He’d sworn he wouldn’t let Yakko out of his sight.

Wakko looked at Dot and she nodded in silent agreement. Once everyone’s backs were turned, they ran after their brother.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Yakko nearly screamed when two pairs of hands grabbed the back of his jacket. He whirled around, mallet at the ready and groaned in frustration when he met Wakko and Dot’s eyes.

“What are you two _doing?_ ” he hissed.

“Helping you,” Dot said, chin up and painfully stubborn.

“Nuh-uh, sibs. Back to the maze.”

“No.” Wakko folded his arms, foot tapping in agitation. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

“You know you can’t stop us,” Dot said.

“It’ll be three on three!” Wakko said. He glanced at Pinky and Brain and said, “Well, it’ll be five on three.”

“Much better odds,” Dot said sagely. 

“You’re-” Yakko was cut off when Dot pressed a finger to his lips, shushing in disapproval and shaking her head.

“We’re insane, we know,” she said. “We’re zany and stubborn, and we are _not_ letting you do this alone.” Her eyes narrowed, giving Yakko a fierce look that was eerily reminiscent of their mother. “We’re the Warner brothers and the Warner sister. This jerk has no idea who he’s messing with.”

“We’re not leaving you alone,” Wakko said. “Not this time.”

Yakko deflated and he could feel his expression softening. “Sibs, you didn’t-”

“If I may,” Brain interrupted. “I believe the longer we stand here, the higher chance there is of Salazar catching us unaware.”

_“Braaaaaain!”_ Pinky hissed. “Narf! They’re being _sweet!_ ”

“He’s got a point,” Yakko grumbled. He eyed his siblings and scowled, grabbing them both firmly by the arm and hauling them along with him. “Neither of you are to leave my sight, understand?”

“Same goes to you, big bro,” Wakko said.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The red monsters had killed a lot of people, but none of the bodies that Ralph came across were the people that Salazar _wanted_ dead. He shuddered each time he passed someone lying dead on the ground, his stomach churning.

He wanted to be home, in his little house with his wife and son. He wanted to be home, far away from all this. He wished that badge had never started to glow, or that some other guard had been on duty that morning. He wanted to be home, helping his son make snowmen.

He didn’t want to be doing this.

Ralph didn’t _get_ it. Why were the Warners considered so dangerous? They were still just kids. Maybe when they were grown up they’d be dangerous, but they hadn’t caused any trouble in five years.

Plotz just sighed and said Ralph didn’t get it. Which was the whole point, Ralph thought. He _didn’t_ get it, he’d just said so. He’d done what he was told, he tried to catch Yakko, but he’d failed. So why couldn’t he go home? Why didn’t Salazar leave them alone and let them all go home?

They met up in the ballroom; red flames still licked at the curtains and danced across the floor unnaturally. There were little groups of people lying on the ground. Some of them were unconscious. Some of them weren’t.

Salazar’s eyes narrowed when he realised four of the guards were missing. His clock pendant glowed brighter, mirroring his anger.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

The Captain shrugged, looking openly annoyed. “I haven’t been able to find them,” he said.

Salazar scoffed, and maybe he would have ranted about how useless they were, but he was interrupted by three cheerful voices.

_“Helloooooo, SALADBAR!”_

“Uh-” Ralph glanced up and there were the Warners, swinging back and forth on the biggest chandelier, waving and blowing kisses, along with those two mice. The taller one blew kisses as well, and the smaller one just looked at them all below him like they were dirt.

“If you’re a salad bar, have you got any croutons?” Princess Dot called down. “I’m starving!”

“Say, Salzy, you’re not looking so good,” Prince Yakko said, winking. “A bit of concealer would do _wonders_ for those dark circles!”

“And maybe get a new hairdresser, Susan,” Prince Wakko said with utmost seriousness. “Your hair’s a mess.”

With a frustrated scream, Salazar shot a wave of magic at them. It crackled like lightning and the kids jumped to the next chandelier, and the one they were on only seconds before crashed to the ground, shattering chunks of gold and crystals everywhere.

The Captain jumped back, looking horrified. Plotz winced at the crash, throwing an arm up to shield his face.

Salazar stood still as a statue, his arm still outstretched; only his heaving chest gave any sign of life. The little red monsters began to crawl out of the clock pendant, whispering to each other like tiny ghosts. Ralph hated that noise, it made his skin crawl.

But if the Warner siblings and their companions were scared, they didn’t show it. The Warners thumbed their ears at Salazar, loudly chanting, _“NA, NA, NA, NA, NA!”_ and, faster than Ralph thought possible, they jumped from the chandelier and zoomed down the wall, leaving puffs of smoke in their wake.

“See ya!” Yakko called over his shoulder. 

_“AFTER THEM!”_ Salazar bellowed. He led the charge, such as it was. Ralph trailed behind, net in hand, slowing down a little with every step.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They’d made it down two corridors when Yakko tripped and fell. Try as he might, he couldn’t get back up to toon-speed as he ran.

“Stupid powers!” He tugged on his ears, looking over his shoulder as Salazar and his lackeys grew closer. He looked at them and Dot knew he was about to suggest something dumb like leaving him behind. Not a chance.

Dot grabbed his left hand, Wakko grabbed his right and they zoomed off, easily pulling him along. 

“We can do this,” Dot said. _“We can.”_

They made it back outside, into the garden and ran towards the maze. They lingered for a moment, waiting for Salazar to catch up, to see where they were.

Sure enough, in moments, Salazar, Plotz, Ralph and that Captain caught up. For a second, they stood in the doorway, peering into the dark. When they spotted them, Salazar began to shout orders again.

Yakko blew a big kiss and they ran into the maze. This time, they ran slower, making sure their pursuers would be able to follow, that they’d be led to the middle of the maze.

“Scratchy’s gonna be _really_ angry,” Wakko said as they ducked behind a corner.

“I can’t say I blame him,” Brain muttered.

It was a delicate balance and one that left Dot’s heart pounding. Make just enough noise to attract the men chasing them, run _just_ slow enough that they knew where they were, but still keep out of sight and reach, don’t get caught. Salazar shot out spells at random, setting fire to chunks of the maze and all the while those monsters made their ungodly screams and shrieks, whispering and whispering until Dot wanted to scream.

Yakko wrapped an arm around her and she clung to him as they ran. _Nearly there,_ she told herself. _Nearly there now._

King Salazar killed their parents and took their home; it was his fault they lost Yakko in the first place. One way or another, tonight he was going to pay.

As they got closer to the middle of the maze, they slowed down. She could hear the screams now, getting closer and closer; she could hear their footsteps loud and clear.

_Nearly there, we’re nearly there, we can do this._

They reached the edge of the maze and stopped at the base of the statue, an intricately carved pillar with a bird on top.

As planned, Yakko stopped and turned around, standing as tall as he could.

“Come on then, if you’re brave enough!” he shouted. “Or are you frightened of three little kids!?”

An awful red glow surrounded Salazar as he confidently stepped out of the shadows. Ralph hung back, his net held limply in his hands. The Captain may have suspected a trick- he sure looked suspicious- but Plotz’s teeth were chattering.

“There you are,” Salazar chuckled. “Nowhere else to run now, children. Your little game is done.”

Yakko smiled. “Never.” Swiftly, he pulled Wakko and Dot to the ground, tackling them away from the statue. _“NOW!”_

The fireworks went off and it was all chaos from there.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It _really_ didn’t help that Yakko could hear Slappy cackling over all the noise. Somehow that just made it even creepier. Hopefully it creeped Salazar and his merry band of idiots out too.

The fireworks rained down from all angles. The noise was deafening, the smoke burned his lungs and some of those sparks were way too close for comfort- but it had the desired effect. Plotz screamed, ducking to the ground, hands over his head as he shook. Ralph staggered back, dropping his net, trying to hide in the corner. The Captain shoved Salazar down, frantically looking every which way, trying to pinpoint where it was all coming from and who exactly was behind it.

A firework soared right through a small bunch of the monsters and they screamed, vanishing from sight. Fireworks soared through the maze, setting the hedges on fire as they went. It was utter madness. It was dangerous, Yakko knew that, but the looks of terror on their enemies faces were truly lovely to behold. Revenge was best served with a healthy dose of madness.

Salazar roared in anger, his spells adding to the chaos.

“We need to go, zoit!” Pinky shouted in his ear. Yakko dragged his siblings backwards, jumping behind the statue. Nurse looked at them from around the corner, eyes wide and frightened.

Yakko nodded and Nurse vanished from sight for a moment. The siblings joined her as she pushed forward the biggest fireworks they had, intended for the grand finale; they were more like rockets than fireworks, each of them as tall as Yakko and as wide as Plotz.

Coughing and hacking, Scratchy, Slappy and Skippy joined them, stumbling out of the smoke. Slappy was still chuckling to herself.

“You’re terrifying, you know that?” Yakko asked her as they lit the rockets.

“So are you,” Slappy said; she looked proud of the comment and clapped Yakko on the back. 

The Captain came around the statue just as the fuses reached their ends. He swore loudly and jumped out of the way, diving towards the walls of the maze, though if you asked Yakko that wasn’t much safer anymore. The three rockets shot right at the base of the statue. 

Their group didn’t wait; as soon as the rockets launched, they turned and ran. There was a deafening _boom,_ sparks and lights filled the air, the smoke grew thicker and they heard the statue collapse. Fire crackled behind them, he heard Ralph scream and the Captain swearing and Plotz’s frantic voice. 

Above it all, was Salazar’s echoing scream, eerily like those of his monsters.

They staggered out of the back of the maze, out of breath and wheezing.

“That’ll keep him occupied,” Yakko said, bent over double.

“You- three-” Scratchy gasped, pointing at them with a shaking finger. “Are- _grounded._ ”

“Fair,” they chorused. 

“I can’t believe we didn’t get the pendant,” Brain grumbled.

“Eh, let’s just be glad we got out,” Slappy said. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

She had a point. They started to run again; when Yakko glanced back, most of the maze was aflame and he could still hear Salazar yelling. Red monsters shot into the air, rather like fireworks themselves, barely visible among all the smoke. 

“That was really brave,” Pinky said quietly, a little shyly.

“That was _dangerous,_ ” Brain said stiffly. “But...it was brave, yes.”

“We need to talk,” Yakko told them, running hand in hand with his siblings. “Like- a _lot._ ”

“We do,” Brain agreed.

“As much as you want, narf,” Pinky said. Yakko smiled, his star pendant hitting against his chest as he ran.

They were more than half-way to the gate. He could see cars speeding towards the estate, the local guards jumping out, armed to the teeth and running to their rescue.

They were more than half-way to the gate when the ground shook and began to split apart.

Skippy screamed, clutching his aunt. She picked him up and ran faster; Scratchy reached back for them when a wall of blood-red fire shot up from the ground, raising higher and higher, taller than the trees, taller than Scratchy’s entire home and completely cutting them off from their friends.

It was a huge chasm in front of them and a ring of fire all around them- and behind them, stood Salazar, Plotz, Ralph and the Captain. They were all covered in soot, bruises and cuts, their clothes ripped and dirty. Salazar’s pendant was glowing so brightly that it hurt to look directly at it.

Scratchy and Nurse were screaming for them, held back by the massive wall of fire. The guards ran forward, shouting for Salazar to stand down, but what good would that do?

Yakko stood hand in hand with his siblings and faced down the man who’d torn their lives apart.

“You’re even more trouble than your parents,” Salazar growled.

“I’ll consider that a compliment,” Yakko said, head held high. His crown slipped down his forehead, Dot’s tiara was lopsided and Wakko’s neck-tie was long gone. They looked like messes too. He knew they looked like what they were: three small kids. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Brain said.

“I’m not,” Yakko said. It was almost the truth. Pinky clenched his tiny fists, eyes narrowed.

“You leave them alone!” he ordered. The flames rose higher, reflecting eerily off Salazar’s face and deadened eyes. He looked bored by Pinky’s declaration.

“This ends tonight,” Salazar said softly, a whispered threat. There was a heartbeat of silence before the red monsters appeared in a wave, soaring towards them.

They tried to jump out of the way, but weren’t quite fast enough. The wave knocked them flying; Dot and Wakko to the left and right, Yakko, Pinky and Brain were sent backwards. Yakko’s crown fell off, rolling away and stopping on the edge of the chasm. He landed heavily, his head swimming, everyone’s voices muffled and slow, his vision blurring in and out. Groaning, he tried to sit up and everything spun faster.

“Yakko!” Pinky was shaking him. “Yakko, get up, quick!”

Scratchy was screaming and screaming for them, the guards were frantically trying to find a way past the enchanted flames, and Yakko knew it wouldn’t do any good. They wouldn’t get past unless Salazar wanted them too. It was just them and an utter maniac in here.

_We can be maniacs too,_ Yakko thought. He hauled himself to his feet, legs shaking.

_I want to be brave._

His eyes narrowed as he reached for his hammerspace. _I_ am _brave._

The monsters flew at him, swirling around, tiny clawed hands reaching for him.

_Remember the dream._

As they reached him, Yakko thrust his glowing sword straight through them. The sword from his dream, nearly as long as he was tall, glowing like the sun and much heavier in real life. The monsters screamed, dissolving, their hands still reaching for him.

“That’s it, Yakko,” Brain encouraged. He and Pinky were on the ground; Pinky helped Brain up; Brain clutched his ribs, wheezing. “You can do this.”

_I can do this._ He had his family back; his siblings, Scratchy and Nurse. He had his friends, he knew who he was and he wasn’t about to let Salazar take it all from him again.

The sword glowed brighter, the monsters disappeared and Yakko aimed his sword at Salazar with both hands. His eyes narrowed on Salazar’s crown.

“I believe that belongs to me,” he said.

Roaring, looking more erratic than ever, Salazar attacked. _“GET THEM!”_ he screamed, the ground shaking again- and to Yakko’s shock, no one moved. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Salazar’s magic was flying everywhere, but to Dot’s surprise his human minions (plus Ralph) didn’t move. Plotz stammered, but didn’t get any real words out. The Captain looked at Salazar in disgust.

Ralph alone spoke up.

“No,” he said, and threw his net to the ground. _“No,”_ he repeated firmly.

In that moment, Dot couldn’t tell who Salazar hated more: her and her brothers, or Ralph. 

“You _dare_ defy me?” Salazar hissed. “You? You _fool!?_ ” A burst of red lightning shot out of his pendant, straight at Ralph, but Plotz tackled Ralph out of the way. The lightning hit the side of Scratchy’s home, sending chunks of plaster raining down.

Yakko ran at Salazar with- _was that the sword, it was, it was the sword from her dream-_ and Wakko ran at him with the biggest mallet she’d ever seen him summon. Grinning, Dot summoned the biggest anvil she could, momentarily struggling under its weight. She ran forward and threw it with all her might.

Salazar ducked _(Damn it!_ she thought) and the anvil crashed into the flames, melting unnaturally fast. He grabbed Wakko’s mallet and threw it- and Wakko- away. 

_“WAKKO!”_ she and Yakko screamed, but their brother was already getting to his feet, looking rather insulted at being thrown. Salazar dodged Yakko’s sword almost lazily, smirking in amusement at her brother’s untrained attacks.

“Best stick to jokes, boy,” he said mockingly. “You’re no warrior.” Four huge monsters rose from him, nearly twice Salazar’s height. Two grabbed Dot before she could move and threw her; screaming, she was flung towards the chasm. She heard her brothers scream her name and she barely caught herself on the edge of the chasm. She didn’t dare look down, she didn’t want to see how deep it went. She clawed at the grass, trying to pull herself up- and a strong pair of hands lifted her into the air, safely depositing her on the grass.

“You okay, man?” the Captain asked. Dot pushed him away.

“I’m fine,” she said primly, getting to her feet. She kept a wary eye on him, a mallet instantly in her hand, but the Captain didn’t look bothered. He nodded at Salazar, still dodging Yakko.

“Wanna kick his ass?” he asked.

Dot grinned viciously. “Oh yes,” she hissed and they joined the fray. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, when Wakko saw the sword, he wondered if he was dreaming again. He wondered if he’d wake up in his bed and this night would all be an awful dream; then they’d attend the _real_ party, and everything would be okay. But everyone was screaming, there was fire everywhere- their friends and guardians were still shouting for them- and Wakko knew it wasn’t a dream.

It wasn’t a dream, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t beat the monsters. That didn’t mean they couldn’t beat Salazar.

_That stupid pendant._

Wakko climbed up the nearest statue. A mallet wouldn’t do it? Fine then. He summoned a war hammer and jumped down, aiming straight at Salazar. A wave of the red monsters sent him back and he skidded to a halt near Plotz and Ralph, arms held out for balance, sending dirt flying. Wakko glared at them over his shoulder and they cowered back as if they were really scared of _him._

“Get up!” he commanded. “Don’t just sit there, fight back!” He didn’t wait for an answer: he ran into the fight again and just hoped they’d be brave enough to do something.

As it turned out, they were.

Plotz joined him, a small knife in hand. Ralph held his net and a knife of his own, bigger than Plotz’s, but he didn’t look very confident about using it. Wakko would take what he could get.

“Ready?” Wakko asked.

“No,” Plotz said, wiping his sweaty forehead. 

“Too bad,” Wakko said and ran straight for the monsters.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Yakko wasn’t fast enough. Even with his toon powers, he wasn’t fast enough. The monsters rose and fell with shrieks that made his head throb; blasts of lightning had him ducking behind statues for cover. He looked through the flames and met Nurse’s frantic gaze. She was crying and Yakko hated it.

He needed that pendant. He needed to get that stupid pendant. All of Salazar’s spells came from it; if they could break it, he wouldn’t be a sorcerer anymore and all the spells would end. The fire would stop, the monsters would disappear. All of this would end if he could only get that _stupid damn pendant._

He felt very small indeed as he caught his breath. 

The Captain took a swing at Salazar with his sword, but the monsters wrapped around his neck like a noose. When they threw him, he slammed into a statue of a pegasus and didn’t get up again. Ralph was surrounded, frantically swinging his net. Plotz stabbed at them, but they just disappeared and reappeared again, laughing at him.

Wakko and Dot joined him behind the statue, reaching for him and Yakko held them close, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to work out a plan. He just needed a moment, he needed to _think,_ to plan, to-

Pinky kissed his cheek and Yakko opened his eyes. Pinky was smiling at him and although Brain didn’t smile, his eyes were shining.

“You will be a wonderful king,” Brain said, and the two mice ran towards Salazar.

_“Don’t!”_ Yakko screamed. They were going to be incinerated, they were going to be thrown into the fire, they were going to die right in front of him.

But they were faster than he would have thought; only the size of the monsters themselves, they were harder to catch and they were on Salazar before the king even got a good look at them. They scrambled up him, their claws scraping at him and they both jumped for the clock pendant.

_“You,”_ Pinky growled, angrier than Yakko had ever heard him. _“Are a very bad man!”_

If it wasn’t for how terrifying it all was, the sight would have been hilarious, Yakko thought as he, Wakko and Dot ran forward. Pinky and Brain, two tiny mice, were jumping on Salazar and tugging on the pendant, trying to get a good grip and Salazar scrambled about like a monkey, trying to grab hold of them, his red monsters swirling around and lashing out at random. Finally, Pinky and Brain grabbed the pendant and _tugged._ As they did, Salazar grabbed them both with one hand.

“You interfering little _rats_!”

“Mice,” Brain corrected, quite calmly, as if they weren't being choked. “We are _mice._ ” They gave one more sharp tug and the clasp snapped.

“Yakko!” Brain shouted. _“Catch!”_ They threw the pendant with all their might; Yakko pushed his sword into Wakko’s hands and _jumped._

It was a toon jump, sending him high and fast; he caught the pendant in mid air and Salazar screamed. The monsters seemed quieter, almost like they were waiting to see what would happen. Plotz cried out, Ralph gasped and Salazar, roaring like a maniac, threw Pinky and Brain with all his might.

Just as Yakko landed, they did too.

They landed only a short distance from the Captain. Pinky screamed as they were thrown and Brain reached out for him. They landed with a heavy thud and although Pinky scrambled back up, gasping and wincing, Brain didn’t.

_Brain?_ Yakko thought, watching them. For a moment, time seemed to slow. Yakko could only focus on Pinky, frantically shaking Brain and screaming. Brain didn’t move; he didn’t tell Pinky to be quiet, he didn’t brush Pinky away or open his eyes. _He didn’t move._

As Salazar ran at him, Yakko dropped the pendant to the ground and stomped on it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“No!”_ Salazar screamed. Bursts of light came from the pendant; the monsters rose into the air, laughing. Wakko and Dot ran to their brother; Wakko clutched the sword to his chest, struggling to hold it.

“That’s for Brain,” Yakko said coldly. 

The monsters swooped down, but this time they had a new target: _Salazar._ They swarmed around him, laughing, pushing him away from the Warners.

“Give it back!” Salazar screamed, true terror in his eyes. Dot locked eyes with him and smiled sweetly.

She stomped on the pendant, cracking it further. The monsters’ laughter grew.

“That’s for Mom and Dad,” she said.

Wakko thrust the sword into his brother’s hands and stomped down as hard as he could. Little cogs and gears poked out and the red light hurt his eyes. The monsters surrounding Ralph and Plotz vanished completely.

“That’s for Yakko,” he growled.

_“I’LL TEAR YOU TO PIECES!”_ Salazar screamed. He looked straight at Yakko and spat. _“YOU VERMIN!”_

All three of them took hold of the glowing sword and raised it high. Yakko held Salazar’s frantic gaze with his own eerily calm one.

“I,” he said, loud and clear. “Am King Yakko William Warner.”

They brought the sword down with all their might, stabbing straight through the pendant and the ground below. The burst of red light, mingled with the golden light of the sword, was blinding; it shot into the air and exploded like the fireworks. Salazar screamed in terror as the monsters began to claw at him.

_“No!”_ he screamed. _“NO!”_

_‘The price,’_ the voices laughed. _‘The price, the price, the PRICE!’_ They dragged Salazar down, screeching and laughing. When they clawed at him, they didn’t draw blood, but _light,_ more red light.

Before their very eyes, Salazar began to change.

He became more gaunt, more ill looking. His skin was translucent, beams of light shooting from him. His eyes melted away entirely and Wakko wanted to look away because Salazar was _awful,_ he was disgusting and terrifying, but Wakko felt rooted to the spot. In mere seconds, Salazar looked like someone on the verge of death. The chasm began to glow red and the monsters dragged him towards it, kicking and screaming.

_“NO!”_ Salazar howled. “Just a little longer, _please,_ just a little longer!”

_‘The price is ours, the price is paid, paid, paid, PAID!’_

They dragged him into the chasm and he fell, howling and screaming for mercy. Laughing in triumph, screaming in delight, the monsters soared in with him. The light was so bright that Wakko had to close his eyes, pressing his face against Yakko’s shoulder. His brother angled them away, shouting for them not to look.

There was a final flash, visible even through Wakko’s closed eyelids.

And then the cheering started.

He opened his eyes. All the fire was gone. The monsters were gone. The chasm began to close, the ground shuddering as it did. The Captain, groaning, sat up, rubbing his head, smearing blood across his face.

“Man,” he groaned. “What the hell happened?”

Scratchy, sobbing harder than Wakko had ever seen him cry before (and _that_ was saying something) scooped them up in his arms, Nurse right by his side.

“Kidses! Kidses, you’re okay!” He rocked them back and forth the way he did when they were little, sobbing against their fur. _“You’re okay.”_

The sword was gone, the clock pendant was broken at their feet, and Wakko slumped against Scratchy in relief.

“Is it over?” Dot asked.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Nurse said, kissing her forehead. “It’s over.” She beamed with pride, holding them all close. “You did it.”

Wakko felt weak with relief. The cheering grew louder, Slappy was barking orders and Plotz and Ralph were agreeing to come quietly.

But Yakko pulled away, sprinting towards two tiny white figures. Wakko’s heart sank; Brain still hadn’t moved.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Yakko fell to his knees next to them, heart pounding, struggling to breathe. Pinky was shaking and crying and Brain was so terribly still.

“Brain?” Yakko lightly nudged him, eyes stinging. “Brain, c’mon, get up. We won, we- I had a sword. You need to wake up and nag me about dangerous weapons now.” He sobbed, though no tears fell. “Brain, please.”

Pinky, shivering, crawled onto Yakko’s lap and Yakko lifted Brain up, bent over him and held the mouse against his chest, shuddering and trying very hard not to completely break down.

_“Please,”_ he repeated.

“Back up!” Slappy was shouting, waving the guards and medics away. “Everyone give them some room!”

Wakko, Dot, Scratchy and Nurse knelt next to him, Pinky sniffled, wiping his eyes.

“I forgive you, you- you _absolute headache,_ ” Yakko sobbed. “Pranks are my thing, this isn’t funny.”

“Yakko-” Scratchy laid a hand on his shoulder, but Yakko shrugged it away.

“He’s _fine,_ ” he insisted. “He’s fine, he’ll be fine, he just needs- needs-” He didn’t know. He didn’t have any answers. He didn’t know how to fix this. For pity’s sake, he’d just beaten _Salazar._ He’d summoned a _glowing sword,_ he- he…

Something poked at him. Something tiny and barely there, something he nearly brushed off as his imagination- but there it was again and a tiny cough, barely audible.

And an oh-so familiar deep voice grumbled, “Can’t...breathe…”

_“Brain!”_

Admittedly, it definitely didn’t help Bran’s ability to breathe when Yakko squeezed him. Pinky burst into fresh tears and jumped up onto Yakko’s chest to smother Brain in a hug.

“Don’t scare me like that, zoit!” Pinky scolded. Yakko, with great reluctance, loosened his grip and held Brain and Pinky further away from him, letting them both breathe.

“That was...not responsible of us,” Brain coughed, rubbing his head and wincing. He gave them his best stern look, not up to much at the moment. “Do not emulate that.”

All Yakko could think to say was, “You didn’t take the money.” At that, even Scratchy and Nurse backed up.

“Ah…” Brain looked faintly surprised by the topic. “No. No, we didn’t.” Pinky shook his head, ears flapping.

“...Why?” Yakko asked quietly.

Pinky answered like it was the most simple thing in the world, giving Yakko’s the sweetest smile. “Because we love you!”

It was one thing hearing it from his siblings, or even from Scratchy; Yakko really felt in danger of breaking down now, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Brain’s cheeks flushed, but for once he managed to look Yakko in the eye.

“Well, we- yes,” he said, rubbing his neck. He coughed and looked away. “There’s that.”

Yakko had just played a part in defeating a usurper, a murderer and sorcerer, but he felt every inch like the fourteen-year-old he was right then. For a moment, he felt like Elo again. Smiling, laughing, tears finally falling, he held his two odd little friends close.

“I love you guys, too.”

Wakko rested his head on his shoulder and Dot draped over his back, humming Angelina’s lullaby. People were still rushing around and shouting; they all, but especially Brain, needed medical attention. Yakko wanted to sleep for a week, and simultaneously doubted he’d ever sleep again.

All the same, he was happy to kneel there with them. As Scratchy and Nurse approached again, gently checking them all over, Yakko couldn’t stop smiling. He was right at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long Saladbar! 😊 Shout out to Fred and George Weasley for the fireworks idea 😂  
> With that, it's after midnight so I'm going to bed. *Yakko voice* Goodnight, everybody!


	15. Epilogue: At The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Presenting Their Majesties, King Yakko, Prince Wakko and Princess Dot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The last chapter 💕

__

_“Let this road be mine, let it lead me to my past, and bring me home at last.”_ \- Anastasia

  
  
  


Wakko and Dot looked amazed to be back in Warnerstock. They stuck close to Yakko’s side, looking about the little dock with wide, amazed eyes. It wasn’t a pretty sight; a rundown town, muddy roads and dark clouds overhead, but they looked at it all like it was the most beautiful sight they’d ever seen.

No, it wasn’t a pretty sight, but Yakko understood. They were home.

They’d set sail on Scratchy’s private ship, the Warner flag flying high and proud.

Their guards were in front of them and behind them; Scratchy and Nurse at their sides, Pinky and Brain on Yakko’s shoulders as usual. The Captain trailed behind their guards, out of Salazar’s uniform and in one of their own. Ralph looked relieved, whereas Plotz walked quietly, his head down. When he caught Yakko’s gaze, he cringed, quickly looking away.

Yakko couldn’t blame him. He’d been given quite the dressing down.

_They were in Nurse’s living room, the one where she greeted guests. Yakko, Wakko and Dot sat on the plush sofa, with Nurse and Scratchy behind them, and Pinky and Brain standing on the coffee table._

_Plotz was left to stand in front of them, no one by his side._

_“You’re a tax collector,” Yakko said. “Maybe you enjoyed it and maybe you didn’t, I don’t know. I don’t care. But what I_ do _know is you stole money from people. You made up taxes as it suited you- and honestly, Plotzy, we don’t trust you.”_

_“I understand, Your Majesty,” Plotz said quickly, eyes on the ground._

_“No, you don’t. Not yet.” Yakko shrugged, eyes narrowing as he looked Plotz over. He really wasn’t that big, Yakko thought. He wasn’t that scary at all. “You’ll return every coin you stole._ All _of it. Any taxes we deem unfair or inappropriate will be returned; any tax we deem too high will be returned.”_

_“Yes, Your Majesty.”_

_“You’re relieved of your duty,” Yakko said brightly. “And you’re under house arrest until we decide we trust you.”_

_“But-” Plotz began to protest, but fell silent under the force of their combined glares. He nodded, head hanging low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”_

_“Thank you for your service,” Dot said, her dripping with sarcasm._

As for the Captain, sure, he wore their uniform now, but he was under close watch, day and night, ordered to help gather the last of Salazar’s forces and track down any who had fled. It was a task he’d accepted with a grin and a “Sure thing, man!” giving them a big thumbs up. At the very least, he seemed genuine, eager to prove his hatred of Salazar was sincere and not just for show. As he’d said himself, he’d known who plenty of the rebels were and _where_ they were hiding, and he’d kept quiet.

“They were right, man,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna turn them in when they were right.”

And Ralph...Well. He was Ralph. He was weirdly kind of sweet once they got talking to him. He directed traffic and he wanted to go home. It was a desire they could all relate to.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Hand in hand, the Warners stepped off the ship; Wakko and Dot’s first step onto Warnerstock soil in five years.

The waiting crowd fell to its knees, heads bowed. The mayor (only distinguishable by his badge, dressed in threadbare clothing like the rest of the crowd) stepped forward and bowed low. Yakko thought the man looked like he was going to cry.

“Welcome home, Your Graces,” he said.

Dot beamed, her dimples and eager little bounces drawing an admiring _“Awww_ ” from the crowd. 

It was Wakko who spoke up first; “Good to be back.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Acme Falls was transformed. It was snowing as always this time of year, with dark clouds overhead, but blue and gold banners flickered in the breeze; the Warner family symbol had been painted on the sides of buildings and sewn onto little flags that were being waved by the eager crowd. Nurse dabbed at her eyes at the sight and Scratchy looked downright serene.

It was still bizarre to have people offer them a hand down from the train. It still felt crazy to think of how different things had been only a short while ago. Yakko jumped down from the train, grinning at the rather scandalised looking conductor. 

The crowds burst into deafening cheers. Hats were thrown in the air; children were sitting on their parents shoulders, pointing and rapidly waving, trying to catch their attention. Well-meaning civilians and traffic guards like Ralph tried to keep the crowd back. Yakko didn’t think he’d ever seen a crowd so joyful before; so many people were crying, but they were still laughing and cheering, clapping and stomping their feet.

Dot gave a pretty curtsy, looking all around her eagerly, grinning, eyes shining. Wakko seemed too amazed to remember to bow; he gaped at the crowd, at Acme Falls and beamed up at Yakko.

“We’re home!” Wakko said happily, his tail wagging, his ears perked up. 

“You two really should bow,” Dot said; she rolled her eyes, but couldn’t seem to stop grinning. None of them could.

Yakko took their hands and, together, they bowed, letting the cheers and shouts of their names wash over them.

They were home. They could rebuild. They were _safe_ and together, and they could slowly start to fix what Salazar had destroyed.

_“It’s not just about riches and power,” Angelina said. She was sewing clothes for a nearby orphanage and Yakko, only seven, sat watching her. “It’s not about who’s strongest, my love. It’s about giving them hope.” She saw his confused pout and smiled, giggling gently._

_Yakko pointed to the small pile of shirts. “Those are shirts,” he said, in all his seven-year-old wisdom. “Not hope.”_

_Angelina shook her head and pulled him close. “You’ll understand more when you’re older,” she said and Yakko rolled his eyes._ You’ll understand when you’re older. _So it was one of those boring_ grown up _things._

_She saw his frustration, his wandering attention, and smoothed down his fur; she cupped his face in her hands and made him pay attention. “It’s about showing them you care,” she said. “That you’ll do whatever it takes to make things well for them.”_

He thought he got it now. That he was starting to.

Yakko looked at their banners, flying high for the first time in five years and he hoped their parents could see this. 

_We’ll make this better,_ he thought, because it _would_ be a group effort, a monumental group effort- but it would be worth it. 

Salazar was gone, they were home where they belonged, and they could finally start to mend their home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They wouldn’t have the family palace ready in time for Yakko’s coronation; one glance at the place and it was obvious, and no one wanted to use the palace that Salazar had used until all of the man’s belongings, statues and portraits were gone so they’d be holding it outside in the town square. The nobility seemed terrified when they told him, but Yakko just shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” he said. The instant sighs of relief were almost painful; then again, these were the people who’d crept around Salazar in fear, terrified they’d lose their heads if they upset him in the least, the fates of Angelina and William, and their most loyal friends hanging over their heads constantly.

Yakko liked to mess with people, but he didn’t want to _scare_ them, crazy as it was to think of all these adults being scared of him.

“Outside’s fine,” he said, and they all got back to work.

“You’d think we’re about to explode,” Dot said.

Yakko shrugged, scrubbing down the floor despite almost everyone’s protests that it wasn’t proper. “Can you blame them?” he asked.

“Not really,” Dot admitted.

Wakko had attached two scrubbing brushes to his feet and was taking great joy in skating along the tiles. Dot’s nose wrinkled, but she dutifully grabbed a mop and got to cleaning. Ralph’s son (also named Ralph and absolutely _nothing_ like his parents- apparently he was adopted as a baby) was helping some of the maids to try and clean the counters and stove. Nurse and Pinky, Yakko knew, were in the town square with Rita and Runt, handing out bowls of soup and bags of food to the people, all merrily looted from Salazar’s overstocked kitchens. Brain was pow-wowing with the nobility and those fighting for a spot on Yakko’s council, carefully interviewing each candidate. 

They were making pretty good progress on cleaning the kitchen when Scratchy summoned them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He looked sad, that was the first thing Dot noticed. Even though Scratchy was smiling, it was clear he’d been crying.

He handed each of them a folded letter.

“I found them among your mother’s papers,” he explained softly. “She-” He had to pause to take a deep breath. “She was meant to give these to me, before we left.”

_Oh._ Dot clutched the paper so hard it crumpled and she immediately smoothed it back out again, suddenly terrified of damaging it. It was from her mom. It was the last letter her mom wrote for her- possibly one of the last things she ever wrote at all.

Scratchy gave them the privacy to read alone. The three of them sat together on a windowsill, huddled as close together as they could get. They were home, in the palace they’d grown up in, but with these letters in hand Dot was uncomfortably reminded that this was also where it all went _wrong._

She opened the letter.

_My darling Dot,_

_You’re only five, still my baby, so I will try to keep this simple. I’m sorry for the lie. I’m sorry you can’t come home yet. Your daddy and I have to take care of a very bad man, named King Salazar. Some people are greedy and cruel, and I’m afraid he is one of them._

_I promise, once it’s safe, you and your brothers will be brought home straight away. I promise to think of you every day and write whenever I can, and send any presents you want. But for now, you need to stay with your uncle Scratchy- you’ll have fun in Burbank, I know you. You’ve wanted to visit since you could speak and demand it! So have fun. Laugh, play games, run amok and bring home stories of your adventures to tell us._

_I know you’ll likely be upset with us, or angry. I understand, I promise you that too._

_I’ll miss you dreadfully, but you’re a brave girl, Dot; hold your head high, and we’ll be together again soon._

_All my love,_ _  
_ _Mommy xx_

Dot didn’t realise she was crying until Yakko and Wakko pulled her into a hug. She bent over the letter, holding it close to her chest and let her brothers hold her. 

A lot of the time, she didn’t remember her parents that well. She could barely recall their voices- but they’d thought of her, of all three of them.

Right until the end, she knew, they’d thought of their children.

  
  
  
  
  
  


That night, as Wakko lay down for bed, he reached out and grabbed his music box, winding the pendant until the box opened and the lullaby began. He lay on his side, reaching back with one hand to make sure Yakko and Dot were still there and kept his eyes on the slowly spinning figures of their parents.

He mouthed the words to the tune, Angelina’s letter on his mind. They’d folded their letters away in Yakko’s book of fairytales, safe and sound until they could find a suitable place to keep them. 

Angelina had been right, Wakko thought, kind of. It may not have been what she meant, but it was safe to come home at last.

The music box slowly closed and, with it, Wakko closed his eyes.

_We’re home._

  
  
  
  
  
  


The day of Yakko’s coronation dawned brightly; it was freezing, snow still on the ground, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. They’d hastily hammered a stage together and lay sheets of purple velvet across it, decorated it with flowers and placed the thrones in pride of place.

Scratchy, Nurse, Pinky and Brain were in the front row. Ralph stood among the guards, beaming away, his son and wife sitting close by. Plotz stood with more minor nobility, but held his head eye, making a statement by wearing the Warner colours.

As the clock struck midday, Yakko, Wakko and Dot climbed out of their carriage. A long blue, purple and gold carpet had been laid out on the ground, leading the way to the stage. The three of them all wore blue and gold, their robes trailing behind them; Dot and Wakko wore matching circlets, though Wakko had jammed his down on top of his hat, and growled when the maids tried to convince him to take it off.

All eyes were on them and Yakko clasped his hands tightly to hide how they shook as they made their way towards the stage. His siblings kept pace with him, rather than walking behind, another small thing he’d insisted on.

He didn’t much care how things were _supposed_ to be done. He was doing this _his_ way, and he wanted his brother and sister with him.

The priest gave the usual speech; the dawn of a new era, a bright hope for the future and that speech felt heavier than it ever had before. It seemed like the whole crowd was holding its breath.

As the priest lifted the crown high, Yakko sought out Brain and Pinky. 

Pinky gave him two thumbs up, bouncing in his seat. Brain nodded in silent encouragement, a little smirk on his face- Yakko would almost call it a genuine smile.

_I can do this._

Scratchy was beaming, lips trembling, already near what promised to be loud and proud tears. Nurse smiled, comfort radiating from her.

_I can do this._

“You can do this,” Wakko whispered.

“You can do this,” Dot whispered.

The crown, William’s crown, rested on his head, the gold, sapphire and diamonds glittering in the wintry sun. Yakko stood and his hands didn’t tremble when he accepted the sceptre and orb.

His siblings stood with him; chin tilted up, shoulders back the way Brain so often nagged about, Yakko faced the people of Acme Falls.

The priest stepped back. Wakko and Dot each rested a hand on his back and the three of them stood united.

“Presenting King Yakko William Warner, Prince Wakko Warner and Princess Angelina Warner of Warnerstock.”

“Dot,” their sister said before the crowd could begin to applaud. She smiled at the priest and Yakko snickered. “It’s Dot.”

Chuckling, the priest corrected himself; “Presenting King Yakko, Prince Wakko and Princess Dot.”

“Better,” Yakko quipped. Wakko laughed, muffling it against Yakko’s shoulder.

The crowd began to applaud, cheering so loudly the ground seemed to shake with it. The sun rose higher and higher into the sky and Yakko looked towards the palace, their home, getting closer and closer to normal each day.

He wondered if there would ever come a day when everything felt like a bad dream. If, one day, the idea of sleeping on a damp floor would seem absurd. 

But Yakko knew one thing: he wasn’t alone anymore.

The priest took the sceptre and orb. The Warner siblings looked at each other and, grinning, gestured for their family to join them. Nurse carried Pinky and Brain on a hand each and Scratchy stood next to Wakko. Yakko held his hands out, and the two mice jumped from Nurse to him.

There was a piercing _“Wwwwoooo!”_ from Skippy and Rita, and laughter from the crowd, from those gathered on the stage.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us,” Yakko said. Pinky was waving his joined fists, loudly cheering with all the rest.

Brain shrugged, chin up, smirking and no doubt scheming. “Who else could pull it off but us?” he asked proudly.

Wakko beamed at him, his tongue poking out, and Dot hugged him so tightly she nearly knocked the crown from his head. Yakko smiled, lightly leaning back against his siblings, basking in the sun’s growing rays. 

“We’re gonna give it all we’ve got.”

  
  
  
 _“We were strangers, on a crazy adventure, never dreaming how our dreams would come true. Now here we stand, unafraid of the future, at the beginning with you.”_ \- Anastasia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't believe this is over. Once more, a massive thank you to all for reading, commenting, leaving kudos- you name it. Thank you for it all 💕
> 
> This story is over, but some snippets/aftermath are in the works such as...  
> Meeting Ralph's family  
> Tying up loose ends with Plotz  
> Rita and Runt reunion  
> Angelina's letters to Yakko and Wakko  
> Officially moving into the palace  
> Revisiting certain matrons 😉  
> Pinky, Brain and Yakko content  
> And lots of adjusting
> 
> (And I'm always open to suggestions as well!)
> 
> *salutes* Until next time, lads 💕

**Author's Note:**

> I would die for the Warners and that's that on that 👉😎👉  
> Can we all agree the Anastasia soundtrack is filled with perfection?


End file.
